


Sorrow Followed

by batyalewbel



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Probably a fix it eventually?, currently on hiatus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-04-28 23:12:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 43,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14459907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batyalewbel/pseuds/batyalewbel
Summary: Day 1: They leave Wakanda to heal from losing their kingDay 2: Clint shows up at their door, hollow-eyed and silentDay 3: Tony crash lands in their backyard





	1. Sorrow Waited

**Author's Note:**

> So Infinity War sure happened huh.  
> I mean I should be finishing my Pacific Rim not starting another thing.  
> Oops

_Sorrow found me when I was young  
_ _Sorrow waited, sorrow won_

 _Don’t leave my hyper heart alone on the water  
_ _Cover me in rag and bone sympathy_

_Sorrow, The National_

 

And Tony is alone.

He’s been alone before.

In the snow and the sand.

Now he’s alone on an alien planet. Surrounded by the hallowed out remains of an alien civilization. The dust that was his friends is still drifting in the breeze.

And one more stranger stands behind him in the aftermath.

He doesn’t even know her name although Thanos called her daughter right before he tried to kill her.

And Tony can feel the sky pressing down on him, the ground crumbling beneath him.

It feels like the world is falling apart because it has.

 _I don’t want to go,_ Peter had cried over and over again. A child’s wail against the inevitability of the universe. In the end, the universe won and it nearly killed him.

He was just a boy, now he’s blood on Tony’s hands and dust in the wind. He doesn’t even have something to bury. Some piece of him to take home and give to his aunt. Peter is just _gone._

They all are.

It can’t just have happened here, he thinks, no it must have happened everywhere.

On Earth.

He wonders if Pepper is alive. Or Rhodey or Happy. He wonders if Steve is alive, his hand balling into a fist at the thought of what could have been his last words to any of them.

What were his last words to Rhodey? Some flippant, _I’ll see you later._

Pepper, it was a joke about being late to dinner as she begged him to come home.

What about Happy? What about May Parker? What about Vision? Or Bruce? Or _Steve?_

His last words to Steve were anger and regret, fighting over decade old wounds that neither of them were actually responsible for.

It was stupid and he regrets it all.

And now he’s stuck on this alien planet, his side glued together in a makeshift attempt at a bandage. It’ll hold for maybe a day before he needs serious medical attention.

 _Half the population,_ he thinks.

That means half is still alive and scared. May Parker might be alive, wondering what happened to her nephew. Bruce might be alive, wondering what happened to his friends.

Stephen had said to him that it had to happen this way, right before he too, turned to dust.

And when he said he saw one outcome where they had succeeded, this must have been it. He has to believe that a freaking wizard could at least dole out an actual prophecy that might be useful.

Tony’s nightmares were nowhere near prophetic, they were just unhelpful but he’s still living them now.

He needs to stop that for the moment.

24 hours before his organs start to hemorrhage. The glue is only holding things together it can’t repair him. Technically he might last a few days before the glue completely degrades. He might even be able to last if he refreshes the glue, but too much of it in his bloodstream might poison him so...

“I need to get back to Earth,” he says to the alien standing beside him and he knows how pathetic he sounds. She looks at him, abrupt and almost robotic.

“Why should I care?”

It’s a valid question, and one he can’t truly answer.

“What’s your name?” he asks and her skin is like sapphires but her eyes are coal black, boring into him.

“Nebula,” she says like it’s more than she wanted to say and she already regrets it.

“Nebula,” he says and he’s pleading. He has half a wrecked Iron Man suit which won’t stand up to the vacuum of space without some serious time and work and he has no time, “Can you get me to Earth _please.”_

And she stares at him with those eyes that are darker than night and give nothing away.

“You want to see if your people survived,” she says after a long pause and there’s something buried in the phrase _your people,_ that sounds like jealousy.

Tony just nods, trying to keep it together, his teeth gritting in pain because this glue is just stopping him from bleeding more but he’s been ripped open and it’s agony.

“Yes,” he says and another incalculably long moment passes as she eyes him up and down.

Finally she growls, _“Fine,”_ and starts walking with the clear expectation that he should follow, so he does.

\---

It’s been three days since Thanos. Three days of picking up the pieces and trying not to fall apart.

In Steve’s nightmares, he sees Bucky looking up at him, wide eyed and confused. _Steve?_

And then nothing, as he crumbled into ash.

Those that are left are all walking around like ghosts.

They left Wakanda to regroup, to let the country heal after losing their king. Last he heard, Shuri had been elected as temporary leader in place of her brother. They would elect a new king in time.

Those that were left, returned to New York. To Avengers headquarters. It seems that Ross and the senators were less concerned with them now. Nobody bothered them.

Steve, Bruce, Thor, Natasha, Rhodey, and the little raccoon Thor called Rocket.

They were all that was left.

On day two, Clint showed up hollow-eyed and silent at their door. He gave no explanation for where he was during the event but his silence spoke volumes.

Bruce eventually told Steve, in the most scattershot way possible, what happened when the first of Thanos’ soldiers came for the Time Stone. Tony had gone off with Spiderman and the one they called Dr. Strange and none of them had been heard from since.

He had to assume they were dead too.

There was talk on the news of a memorial for those that had been taken.

He couldn’t really stand to watch the news right now.

That was how it went for three days, until something that looked like an alien spacecraft crashed in the Avengers Facility’s backyard.

\---

Nebula simply has nothing better to _do._

That’s the only reason she agrees to this Terran’s stupid request. He was clearly a friend to Gamora if he’d been with Peter Quill and the rest of Gamora’s ridiculous troup. Technically that means nothing but Thanos is gone from her reach, she has no idea where he would go next after finally achieving his stupid, terrible mission and her sister is dead.

For the moment she’s adrift. No sister to fight and no father to kill.

Part of her hopes he might have at least died carrying out his obscene plan but she has a feeling she won't be so lucky.

Getting the Terran to Earth would cost her nothing except time.

And she needs time.

Her sister is dead, her sister who gave up the location of an Infinity stone because Nebula was in pain.

_Her sister._

That wound is raw and open and she had watched silently as Gamora’s friends turned to dust. As the boy cried in this Terran’s arms before he too crumbled to nothing.

Maybe she feels sorry for the Terran who had eventually thought to inform her that his name was Tony Stark.

She can tell he is wounded from the way he carries himself as he staggers onto her small two person shuttle and collapses into the copilot seat. If he chooses not to comment on his injury, neither will she.

Wounds are weakness, that was what Thanos had taught them both. In her limited experience with Terrans they seem quite fragile. But once she agreed to take him, this Terran was completely silent. Once he had settled into the seat he simply watched her start the shuttle up.

“Do you have coordinates?” she asks him. Earth is a big planet to her knowledge, presumably he has somewhere in particular he wants to go.

He tonelessly rattles off the series of coordinates and she enters them. After that he remains silent, his eyes locked on the viewscreen before them.

She is perfectly happy with the silence.

About a day into their trip, she hands him a nutrient pack. She does not require food but she can consume it for fuel. Soft tissue beings require such things.

He stares at it almost uncomprehending.

“You require food don’t you?” she demands, hostile and irritated. Quill ate like a pig the few times she had the misfortune of witnessing it.

He merely looks at her, exhaustion in every line of his face.

And then he takes a bite, wincing as he swallows.

A second later, he coughs, a trickle of blood leaking out of his mouth and she glares at him.

“If you die, I’m ejecting your body into space,” she informs him.

“Fair enough,” he says quietly, the words sounding raw and uneven.

After that silence falls again.

Wounds are weakness. Weakness is death.

She cannot be weak now.

Except Gamora’s death is a wound, the worst kind of wound and she is most certainly weak with it. Even the loss of Gamora's stupid friends weakens her, thier names taking up space in her memory.

A part of her hates Gamora for making her feel this much, she was not built for it.

And a part of her has to remind herself she was _born_ not built.

Thanos’ plan was madness and pure evil, even Nebula with her skewed moral compass always knew that as a certainty.

She hates her own grief at the thought of so much death that should not matter and yet it does.

Even the stupid Terran beside her seems like one life too many to lose now.

They are a few hours away from Earth when he begins coughing uncontrollably, blood bubbling up from his mouth and she glares at him as his eyes roll up into his head.

“You had better not die, I am not a transport service for _corpses,”_ she spits out. The Terran does not respond and she glares some more. She knows nothing about medicine for any creature. She can’t fix things she can only break them.

She stares some more, her lips forming a snarl as she presses down on the controls to make the ship go faster. It won’t be much and it will burn up the rest of her fuel, but for some reason she feels quite strongly about this one moronic Terran remaining intact.

Him and _his people._ She can’t help jealousy at the thought that he could lose so many and still have more people to return to.

But he was one of Gamora’s people.

Her sister is gone, Quill, Drax, and Mantis are gone, but for the moment, the Terran remains.

“We will reach Earth within an hour _Terran,”_ she says.

He does not respond and she scowls furiously at the viewscreen.

From the corner of her eye, she notes the shallow rise and fall of his chest marking him as still living.

 _“One more hour, Terran,”_ she mutters.

\---

Steve is sitting on the balcony, staring out into the trees when he sees it coming down like an asteroid.

 _“Hey, everyone be on alert,”_ Steve calls out before taking off running.

“What's the situation Cap?” Natasha calls out from the gym where she was sparring with Clint.

 _“I don't know yet,”_ he shouts as he throws the door open and runs to the back of the house where the object fell.

As soon as it's in sight he picks up speed, only stumbling to a stop when he’s close enough to get a good look at it.

It looks like a shuttle, sitting at the center of a crater.

He should have brought his shield. He did think to grab a gun at least, he points it at the shuttle now knowing Nat will probably be along in a minute for backup.

The shape of it is nothing like Thanos’ ships. They looked like wheels, this has more of the shape of a child’s toy. Round with small fins coming off the sides and a bulky engine at the back.

A panel along its side opens and a blue alien steps out. Her eyes are black and her hands are raised as she glowers at him.

“Who are you?” he asks, “Why are you here?”

“The Terran said he had people here,” she replies, her voice deep and somehow tinny, like something mechanical.

“The Terran?” he repeats and she nods.

“He was injured on Titan, but he gave me these coordinates,” she says like that is any kind of explanation and Steve stares at her, uncomprehending.

She rolls her eyes right as Nat comes running up beside him.

“What’s going on?” Nat asks him, her gun steadily pointed at the alien who watches her with half lidded eyes.

“I don’t know,” he says honestly, “This alien says a _Terran_ gave her coordinates?”

Nat stares at him, sharp and intent.

“Steve that’s their name for humans.”

\---

Rogers might be the team leader but he hasn’t been asked to lead anything since Wakanda. Nat’s made sure of that. She can see the wildness in his eyes, how close he is to breaking.

Shellshock, PTSD, she doesn’t care what it’s called she knows it when she sees it.

Before Wakanda, before Thanos, Steve would be taking charge, corralling this potential hostile, asking the right question. Now he just _stares._

So Nat asks the right question, “What’s the Terran’s name?” and the alien shifts beneath her gaze, it could be nerves or something else but Nat takes note of everything and never lets her gun drop.

“He said his name was Tony...” the alien says and her eyes flick to Steve and back with a frown , “He’s injured.”

Before this would have made Steve spring into action, call for medical, call for Bruce and a stretcher.

Now he just stares, like he’s lacking comprehension and so Nat moves, the alien simply steps back and lets her into the shuttle without a word and it’s a small space. She has to crouch to get to the front of the ship and she hopes this isn’t a stupid trap or that Steve might have the presence of mind to shoot the alien if this goes sideways.

She pushes herself up against the console, facing the co-pilot’s seat and the unconscious figure that is absolutely Tony Stark.

She does a quick check for any facial camafloguing software behind the ears and takes his pulse. It’s weak but its there. He’s still half in an Iron Man Suit, the upper half clearly must have been blown off in a fight and she can see the dark patch on his side where the real injury must be. There’s dried blood on his chin and she kneels down to eye level.

“Hey Tony, you with me?” she asks softly, his eyes open the slightest inch, eying her and then drifting shut.

That’s enough to get her diving towards the shuttle entrance.

“Steve, _get Bruce,”_ and thank heaven her tone is enough to snap him out of it, he takes off running and the alien watches her as she steps back into the ship, kneeling down beside Tony, keeping one hand on his wrist, her finger on his pulse.

The alien says nothing, she only watches. Finally Nat is the one who asks, “You got a name?”

“Nebula,” comes the quiet, edged reply. With that she nods and turns her attention to Tony. She’ll deal with the alien later, or maybe Steve will.

Clint won’t be much help. Today she was finally able to coerce him into going down to the gym to spar, but he’s been mostly unresponsive and completely silent.

She never asked about Laura or the kids. She knew the moment he had shown up at their door that they were gone.

As Bruce and Steve come running, she can see Thor and the raccoon at their heels for some reason. Probably curiosity or in case they’re needed. Thor is often too helpful but right now with an unknown alien in their midst she doesn’t mind so much.

Bruce steps into the shuttle with her, kneeling down to look at their friend.

“Oh Tony, what happened to you?” Bruce murmurs softly, his hands moving carefully, prodding at the area around the injury.

“He fought Thanos,” comes the terse reply from the alien outside the shuttle.

Natasha looks at Bruce, wide eyed.

“Alone?” she calls out.

“No,” Nebula replies, but gives no further details. Nat steps out of the shuttle as Bruce opens his med kit and the site that greets her is almost comical. Steve hovering by the shuttle entrance, anxious and uncertain. Thor watching from the lip of the crater looking grave and Rocket glaring up at Nebula.

“So, you’re still alive?” the raccoon asks incredulously

“I am, and apparently so are you, rodent,” Nebula says but it lacks bite.

So the raccoon knows the alien, thats a good sign.

Or maybe not a good sign, she has a feeling that the raccoon might be a criminal of some form wherever he’s from.

Bruce sticks his head out of the shuttle and looks at them all, “We need to get him to the med bay,” he says. Steve is the one who climbs into the shuttle and carries Tony out like he’s a fragile thing. It would be almost sweet in any other circumstance.

They all head back inside but Nebula stands by her shuttle, shifting her weight uncertainly. It’s Natasha who stops and looks at her.

“Did you fight for Thanos?” she asks and Nebula glares at her with such venom she’s actually slightly taken aback.

“I fought to _kill_ Thanos,” she replies through her teeth and Natasha blinks.

“Well then you’re welcome inside, unless you'd rather stay out here.”

With that she heads inside and without looking back, she knows Nebula is right behind her.

\---

When Tony wakes up the first time, he’s confused. He’s in a bed and he can hear two voices talking.

He’s pretty sure one of them is Thor, the other he doesn’t know and he’s so _tired._ He just lies there and listens.

“Buddy, I still don’t know why we’re sitting here.”

“Because it is customary to vigil beside the bedside of wounded friends,” Thor says, quiet and almost genial, “Was this not a custom amongst your friends?”

“Quill and Gamora liked to hide any injuries until they were on the brink of dying and then Drax would get mad at them about it. And when Drax was hurt he was a _cuddler,”_ the word is said with great disgust, “Mantis never got hurt that bad. Groot didn’t generally get _wounded_ in the strictest sense of the word…” the voice trails off with a sigh, “They’re probably all dead now anyway.”

“You don’t know that, your friends might still be out there on Knowhere. Why don’t you ask this Nebula about it?”

And suddenly Tony is fully awake and aware of where he is right now. He jerks upright in bed startling Thor and what looks like a  _raccoon?_

“Stark, hail and well met,” Thor says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach previous levels of enthusiasm he has seen on the god in times past. And seeing the way Tony can’t stop staring at the literal raccoon sitting upright in the med bay, he says, “Oh yes Anthony this is Rocket. I met him after I fell on his ship.”

“You can’t really fall in space Thor,” the raccoon says to the god before turning towards Tony, “Hi,” he adds shortly already turning towards the door

Although Tony is still stuck on those names he mentioned.

“Were you talking about Peter Quill?” he asks and at that the creatures ears perk up, “Yeah why?” Rocket asks, “You seen ‘em?”

And he turns back to Tony who can’t help the look of utter destruction on his own face.

“Shit,” the raccoon says, “What about Drax?” he shakes his head.

“Mantis?” he shakes his head.

“What about Gamora?” and at that moment Nebula seems to almost appear in the doorway.

“She’s dead,” Nebula says with such a visceral rage that it surprises all of them, except Tony who’s watching her. A new understanding dawning. She had mentioned Gamora, as had Peter. At the time he was busy trying to contain a super villain, he wasn’t really listening all that closely.

But now it clicks.

“That was your sister right?” Tony asks quietly and she looks at him, in one sharp motion.

“Yes.”

Tony nods, “I’m sorry.”

“What good does that do?” she asks before stalking away, leaving them staring after her. The raccoon looks like he’s trying not to cry and doing a bad job of it. Thor pets him gently behind the ears and Tony, suddenly uncomfortable with all the emotion in the room, stumbles out.

“Anthony, I do not believe you should vacate at this time,” Thor calls out after him and it’s true, everything aches but Tony can’t be still right now.

He ends up staggering all the way to the backyard and the crater where they landed.

He sits down at the edge of it, burying his head in his hands and that’s where Steve finds him.

\---

Its Thor who finds Steve, tells him Tony wandered off and somebody should make sure he’s okay.

So Steve goes to the place where he might go to brood if he were in Tony’s particular shoes.

He finds him sitting at the edge of the crater and sits down beside him.

“Hey Cap,” Tony says tonelessly.

“Hey Tony, should you be going on a stroll right now?” Steve asks, aiming for lightness and probably missing.

“No,” Tony says and makes no move to head back to medical. So Steve settles beside him, content to have one more friend alive than dead. It doesn’t balance the scales, but it helps.

He still misses Bucky like one might miss a lung, or their own heartbeat after it stops.

He still misses Falcon and Wanda and Vision and T’Challa.

“Do you know if Pepper’s alive?” Tony asks him quietly and Steve startles.

“Nobody’s told you yet?” he says soft but incredulous and Tony shakes his head again.

Steve doesn’t want to be the one, he wishes Nat were here, she’s better at this than he is.

Still he rests a hand on Tony’s shoulder and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry.”

Tony looks away like he’s been burned, his shoulder shakes beneath Steve's hand. He knows Tony might be crying as quietly as he can and he doesn’t say another word.

Several minutes pass before Tony asks him, rough and jagged, “Who else?”

“Are you sure you want to hear this right now?” Steve asks as gently as he can and Tony laughs without humor. “Sure, let’s rip off the band aid now. Who else?”

And so Steve rattles off all the names he knows, watching Tony’s eyes grow. He even flinches at Bucky’s name and Steve’s not sure why but when the names are done, Tony looks away.

“We were on another planet,” he says slowly, eyeing the dirt beside him, “Me, Stephen Strange, and a bunch of Rocket and Thor’s friends. Peter Quill, Drax, Mantis and…” he looks at Steve then with so much pain in every line of him, “You remember that kid from Berlin?”

“The one from Queens?” Steve asks already knowing the answer and hating it. Tony nods, “He could feel it happening somehow. He just started crying and…” Tony trails off, taking a ragged breath.

“It might not be much consolation Tony,” Steve says quietly, “But it happened everywhere. Even if he had stayed safe on Earth it could have happened anyway.”

And Tony lets out a breath that’s half a sob, “Shit I need to see if his aunt or his friend are still alive. Somebody needs to…” he can’t even finish saying it.

Finally Steve moves his hand up, letting it rest on the back of Tony’s neck. Bucky used to do this with him, he always found it made him feel...safe.

He pulls Tony in and is a little bit surprised when Tony lets him. And they sit like that for a long time. Neither of them will admit to any tears shed.

Only the earth will know.

The earth that bore witness to all this horror.

And it will bear witness to more before this ends.

Because once they’ve all had time to recover, Steve knows what they have to do.

They have to assemble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not interested in **how** they bring everybody back, I just want some dealing with the feelings and then some lets pretend they undo all of that fuckin movie.
> 
> And just a friendly PSA because y'all are nice and asking, I do intend to write more chapters, idk how much but there's more. Also idk when because I'm getting my tonsils out in a week and I might go dark for a bit after that and I'm already trying to finish a Pacific Rim thing but don't you worry friends, I will write more :)


	2. Time Passes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um so comics Wanda is Jewish/Romani because Magneto is her dad. Obvs MCU Wanda is different but I’m very Jewish and still pretty peeved they ignored that. So shes wearing a Jewish star now.  
> Lastly, comics Hawkeye is deaf and uses a hearing aid and I’m really bitter about how far MCU Hawkeye is from Matt Fraction’s so there are one or two oblique references to him using a hearing aid and maybe reading lips.
> 
> Also I may need to further spellcheck this but I'm tired and posting this now

Nebula prowls through the Avenger’s Facility like a caged animal. She has so much rage and nowhere to put it.

When she hears a strange noise, like something soft being punched over and over again, she follows the sound into a cavernous room full of shooting target, punching bags, and exercise equipment. At the far end of the room, a man holds a bow and a quiver of arrows at his back. His speed is impressive as he empties his quiver into the center of his target before throwing the empty quiver to the ground and stalking towards a row of punching bags with a look of intent.

He stops at the sight of her.

She says nothing, she will not stoop to politely greeting every Terran she sees. They all remind her of Peter Quill in a way that makes her stomach twist and her fists clench. After staring at her for what might have been a full minute he simply continues on his path to the punching bags. She watches him unload a level of rage that might match her own on the bag in question and he ignores her.

She doesn’t need to ask if he lost someone. With half the population gone she feels certain every being left standing has lost someone.

Although perhaps her gaze is frustrating him, because eventually he stops punching the bag and steps back to stare at her, jaw clenched.

Maybe she’s in a curious mood today, even if these beings are all beneath her.

Maybe she’s wondering what could make a Terran that mad when all the others she’s met just seem broken.

“Who did you lose?” she asks and his eyes seem to linger around her mouth when she speaks. He still stares her up and down a few more times before turning to face the bag again. As he does, one hand comes up and seems to press on his ear in a small, measured motion.

“My wife and my kids,” he says before going back to violence against an inanimate object.

She nods thoughtfully. The only father she’s ever really known is Thanos whose role as a father was more dictator and abuser than loving parent, but she supposes those sorts of fathers do exist. She supposes a wife and kids is a substantial enough loss.

After a few more punches on the bag he adds, “And a few friends.”

He looks at her then, there’s an obvious expectation for her to reciprocate.

To share her losses with the room.

She is under no obligation to do any such thing. This Terran does not even request it, he simply looks at her and leaves the silence there like an invitation.

“My sister,” she says and he nods, turning back to the punching bag as if that truly satisfied his curiosity. Most of the creatures here want nothing more than to talk but this one seems satisfied with two words.

She takes a step forward and he glances at her, one quick look and then away again. He punches the bag twice more in sharp, quick jabs before dropping his hands and looking at her again. He takes a step back from the bag, his head tilted to one side.

The invitation is clear. Like hitting a bag filled with sand can possibly fix all the rage and hurt trapped within her. Still, she takes another step forward.

“I might break it,” she says.

He nods, “You wouldn’t be the first.”

With that he steps back, giving her the space.

It’s stupid, it will accomplish nothing.

She plants her feet anyway, hands coming up automatically in a defensive stance.

She punches the bag once, twice, three times, letting her momentum carry her forward as the bag swings back. She steps behind it lifting one leg up and swinging her body around to give it enough force as she kicks the bag. Then she drops to her knees as the bag swings forward and punches up, at the flat bottom of the bag. From there she’s upright again, unleashing more kicks and punches and after a minute or two, from the corner of her eye she sees the Terran nod quietly and go to pick up his bow and some more arrows. He returns to his target, presumably to empty his quiver a second time when her hand goes through the bag with a loud tearing sound.

She pulls her hand back and freezes. The sand pours out of the bag in a way that reminds her of nothing so much as those that turned to ash and dust.

The crying boy, the knowing warlock, and every one of Gamora’s friends.

The gym is almost completely silent except for the sound of sand streaming out onto the hard wooden floor.

Finally, she hears a shuffling behind her. She turns to see the Terran wandering towards the back of the room to a small set of drawers. He rummages around and comes out with what looks like a ring of black ribbon.

He walks up to her and the bag, tearing a strip of it away with an audible rip. He presses it over the hole in the bag without a word. Sand still slips out from either side of the strip and silently he tears off another strip of the shiny adhesive and another and another, until the stuff completely covers the hole in the bag.

She looks at him and he only shrugs, then his gaze drifts to something beyond her with a frown.

“Sorry Clint,” says a voice from the doorway, Nebula turns to see the one they call Natasha leaning against the doorframe, “I wasn’t watching for _that_ long.”

Clint makes a soft sound of disbelief and goes back to his targets.

Natasha watches him go with an immeasurable sadness marring her smooth features, it vanishes in an instant as she looks back at Nebula.

“Want to spar?” she asks with a small smile.

“I might break you,” Nebula says, frowning at these Terrans and their strange behaviors. Natasha only glances at the bag, now fixed with the black ribbon adhesive

“I doubt it, but if anything breaks, it can be fixed.”

\---

Natasha has spent a lot of time in Wanda’s room lately. Sometimes she sleeps in there, or in Vision’s room. Sometimes she just sits on their beds and stares at the walls.

They learned about Fury and Mariah Hill the day after, as they were leaving Wakanda.

Neither of them have rooms here that she can sit in, but an irrational part of her wishes they did.

Everybody vanished without a trace but these rooms are filled with Wanda and Vision. With their things and with the hints and touches that were uniquely them. The way Wanda never seemed to get the hang of how drawers worked. Most of her clothes are neatly folded and resting on the top of the long dresser. Her hairbrush still has long strands of red in it and the handle is slightly charred from once when Wanda lost her temper. In her jewelry box is another Jewish Star necklace. Probably the one she had been wearing when they first met her. It was small and gold and lately she’d taken to wearing a silver one that was inlaid with pearl. Natasha suspects it was a gift from Vision, but it's gone with Wanda.

Then there are the knickknacks. Little bits and things she’s picked up everywhere they traveled. Whether it was a smooth stone she found while they were in Bucharest, or a carved figurine she bought in Scotland. In every corner of the room, there are little remembrances secreted away like precious things.

To Wanda, perhaps they were.

Vision’s room is another story. Sparse and uncluttered. Everything hung and folded where it should be. His presence is in the details, the dust and the poorly made bed. Vision wasn’t here very often and when he was, such human things like dusting and bed sheets seemed almost confusing to him. Natasha once spent a hilarious hour teaching him how to wash dishes by hand.

“But there is a dishwasher Natasha,” he had said and she had laughed and waved off his objections, telling him he needed to learn the value of elbow grease.

It feels right to sit and remember them, or at least Natasha thinks so.

She files all of her memories like her brain is an archive and maybe it will be.

She’s still not sure if it will be possible to undo what Thanos did. It’s possible that half the world is gone forever.

And when losses like this occur, it’s important to document those that have been lost.

It’s important to remember the fallen.

She went with Wanda once to the Washington D.C. Holocaust museum.

Wanda had told her in hushed tones that she had never gone. Something there was left unsaid as she fiddled with her Jewish Star necklace.

They didn’t talk much as they walked past the various displays. The pile of empty shoes and the books filled with names.

There is something important about remembering those that are gone and those that were taken before their time. After a tragedy it's important to remember.

\---

Back in Wakanada they had stayed long enough to watch Shuri take charge of a wounded nation, the way one might try to pick up broken glass with their bare hands.

“We need to elect a new king,” One of the tribal elders had said to a room that was only half full. Half the tribes had lost a leader and not had time to elect a new one. Natasha was standing at the back of the room with Steve, nobody seemed to care about their presence one way or the other as long as they were silent.

“No,” Shuri had said to the call for a new king. She stood in front of T’Challa’s throne but did not sit in it as she continued, “My brother has died before and then returned to us again.”

She looked out at the room with such a determination, it silenced all the elders who were opening their mouths to argue.

“It is too soon to write him off forever. Let us wait until this Thanos has been neutralized before we make any final decisions.”

There were nods in the room and the young girl straightened her spine beneath their collective gazes.

“We will heal from this and we will help in this fight if we are needed,” she nodded to Natasha and Steve, a few elders glanced at them but most watched Shuri with intent.

Apparently with her wealth of words run dry, she slowly lifted her arms, laying them across her chest in their salute.

“Wakanda forever,” she murmured and her words were echoed around the room.

They stood and watched as the elders all left the room one by one with nods to Shuri. Only when they were alone in the room did Shuri wipe at her eyes and relax her posture.

“I think you should leave now,” she said to them and Natasha had nodded.

“I’m sure we will be in touch soon enough,” Shuri added, “Once you’ve found a way to beat Thanos and undo this madness.”

“We’ll be in touch,” Natasha had said, Steve could only nod, mournfully eyeing the room.

And so they had left Wakanda to themselves and come back to the Avengers Facility. Back to it’s empty rooms and halls.

Natasha’s therapist is apparently one of the ones that had been lost which is a strangely cutting blow.

Clint had once goggled at her when she referenced seeing a therapist to which she had replied, “I was brainwashed from the age of four and forced to be an assassin at twelve, _yes_ I have a SHIELD approved therapist.”

And without Fury, SHIELD is probably over. Him and Mariah cut her too. As did Wanda and Vision and Bucky.

The early estimates are saying that about 3.5 billion people had died.

And she feels like she’s been wounded 3.5 billion times.

It's too much loss for anyone to process and yet they all have to move forward now.

They can’t just sit and cry here anymore.

She knows that Steve is trying to think up a plan. She knows Clint is at least talking now. She knows that Tony is now up and about and spending all his time in his workshops, presumably trying to build them something that could stop Thanos.

\---

_“I don’t want to go.”_

That is going to haunt his dreams for a long time.

Which is part of the reason why he isn’t really sleeping. Occasionally though, his body will sort of fall asleep of his own accord.

Friday will tell him he’d fallen unconscious when he wakes with a start two hours later at his work bench.

His side is one solid ache but he pushes through that.

If he can build something that might neutralize the gauntlet, or Thanos. Something that would allow a human to wield the gauntlet long enough to undo what was done.

After bawling like an idiot child with Steve he had come down here and started working immediately.

He hasn’t left the workshop in about four days now.

He keeps mocking up schematics, running equations and then throwing it all away and starting again. He could ask Bruce to get down here and help. With the man’s knowledge base he would be helpful.

He’s periodically texted the man and got quiet, clear responses back.

Tony isn’t sure he can be around people right now.

So it’s a little bit funny that he’s visited by an android on day five.

Nebula wanders into his workshop as soundlessly as a ghost. He notices her, only because Friday lets out a soft chime to notify him of another presence in the workshop.

The place is bigger than a garage and filled to the brim with bits of tech that sit half-finished where he left them for another project. Tony is at the back of the room, a good few feet from the entrance, but he looks up from his current schematic to see her glancing around the room.

She’s probably seen him already, the holographic displays he’s fiddling with are hard to miss but he watches as she looks around the entire room, clearly taking it in.

“Hey Mystique,” he says lightly, turning back to his calculations and feeling her gaze on him like a spotlight.

“That is not my name,” she says.

“No its uh...fictional…” he trails off because he’s _tired_ and that wasn’t his best joke anyway, “Never mind, do you need something?”

“No,” she says, flat and emotionless. She’s also standing in his workshop and clearly not going anywhere. He spins his schematic around before sighing, “Friday, delete this and bring up schematic 15-D687.”

“Mr. Stark you told me to ‘burn schematic 15-D687 with fire’” Friday replies, calm and genial from the speakers overhead, Nebula startles a little, glancing up as she speaks.

“And I’m assuming your programming knows better than to _listen to me,”_ Tony says and he swears he can hear his AI sigh.

“Bringing up schematic 15-D687 for you now sir.”

“Thanks dear.”

He swipes the current one away and looks over the old schematic. It was mostly trash but he’s remembering a particular bit of circuitry that might be useful for the next design.

Nebula is still there and still watching.

“So what can I do for you?” he asks, aiming the question at Nebula, who stands close to the doorway, like she prefers to have an exit nearby at all times.

“If you need some help with your shuttle I can probably fix it for you,” he says as he isolates a panel of this design and saves it for future use.

“You know...if you wanted to get out of here and back to…” he trails off because he has no idea where Nebula is even from.

“Its out of fuel,” Nebula says with no emotion except possibly anger, “And I have nowhere to go.”

“Oh…” Tony says moving on to all the readings they had taken of Vision and his Infinity Stone.

Before it was apparently _ripped out of him by Thanos._

He swallows hard, “Well you’ll fit right in here, most of us have no...You’re welcome here as long as you like…” he finishes lamely because he is too tired to even think let alone try to comfort an alien whose planet probably got wiped out by Thanos a long time ago.

Nebula doesn’t say anything for a long time and Tony swallows again, willing himself to maintain his own composure for the _love of fuck._

“I apologize for threatening to eject you into space,” she says after what feels like an eternity. Tony laughs and it sounds closer to crying than he would like, “Eh, it’s fine,” he says with a loose  wave of his hand which is shaking, “That was a hard day.”

And she looks at him then, her gaze laser sharp. Even from across the room he can feel it burning into him.

This silence is even longer than the last one and finally Tony exhales long and loud.

“Listen Avatar, I’m not really good with like... _people?”_

“My name is not Avatar,” she interrupts and he just keeps talking, “I’m cool with you hanging out down here _Nebula,_ but could you just sit down or something? You’re making me nervous standing there.”

Again she is silent for a long time. He can almost hear her blinking at him. But after he’s aged ten years she goes and sits on his old raggedy couch, perching stiffly on the edge of it and still watching him.

 _Good enough,_ he thinks and returns to his schematics.

“Friday did you get any readings off of Strange when we were with him?”

“Of course Mr. Stark. You have me scanning for any anomalies at all times.”

“Don’t sass me Moneypenny, can you bring up the readings to compare with Vision?”

“Certainly sir.”

He’s looking for the readings from the stones. Any commonalities between them. Anything he can use to calculate how to build something to use them or neutralize them without vaporazing him in the process.

“Why do you argue with an AI?” she asks him as his eyes skim over all that data.

“What else am I supposed to do when they sass me?” Tony asks, casual and flippant and not taking his eyes away from his readings.

“Reprogram it,” she says and it’s flat and unfeeling, but something in her tone makes Tony look at her then.

She’s definitely at least part android, although based on her voice and movement, he suspects she might have been a person once. It’s just a guess, but being the daughter of Thanos… It doesn’t take too many leaps to imagine who might have made her this way and why.

He considers his response and wishes he wasn’t running on less than an hour of fitful sleep since this conversation suddenly feels a lot more important.

“I’m not interested in changing who Friday is,” he says carefully, “I might have built her, but all my AI’s are built to grow and develop on their own like people do. They learn things and have the ability to evaluate and make decisions.”

She’s watching him again, sharper than broken glass.

“If they develop an attitude it’s probably my fault, but now it’s theirs and I’m not interested in taking that away from them.”

She keeps on staring at him, long enough that he wonders if she’s frozen, or if it's possibly to have holes burned into him from someone looking at him for too long.

Finally she nods, a short jerk of her chin and leans back on the couch, actually relaxing against the cushions to the point of almost languid.

“Good,” she says and Tony wonders if he just passed some kind of test.

“Good,” he replies before turning back to his readouts.

Over the next few hours, he works and she watches and it’s practically peaceful.

Right up until he very suddenly falls asleep or, more accurately, _collapses_ on his workbench which he’s pretty sure Nebula found alarming. It probably looked like he had suddenly banged his head against the table.

Friday calmly informed them both that ‘Mr. Stark hasn’t attempted sleep in 36 hours and should lie down.’

After that and another seething glare from Nebula, he skulked back upstairs to try and lie down in an actual bed.

\---

Steve finds himself out in the yard again, sitting on the steps leading into the backyard where that crater and Nebula’s shuttle still remain from their landing six days ago.

On the news, everyone was still mourning. It seemed that Thanos was not general knowledge but everyone understood that this was probably some sort of foreign incursion. There was shaky handheld footage of Thanos’ acolytes who had landed in New York, Berlin, and Wakanda hunting for Infinity Stones.

As for SHIELD, it seemed that they were all gone now. Sharon Carter was gone too and that only stung in a distant way, one final nail in a coffin that was everything he had ever known before the war.

Now he’s sitting outside and thinking distantly that they need a plan. They need a way to track down Thanos and to undo all of this.

And he’s drawing one huge blank.

The sun is starting to set now, filling the sky with the beginnings of dusky pinks and deeper blues. The light that remains is golden and reflects in bright bursts on the surfaces of the downed shuttle. With all the trees around, the scene is almost beautiful somehow it is stark quality.

Bucky had always liked going to the park to see trees and green. Even when it was just the two of them living in a sorry excuse for an apartment, he would often go sit outside on the balcony. He used to say the fresh air would do them good.

Even after everything he had noticed that Bucky chose a city like Bucharest to hide in. There was so much green in that city. Steve had partially hoped that all those forests and mountains in Wakanda might help to heal him somehow along with whatever skills Shuri and T’Challa had at their disposal.

And he thinks that it did although there hadn’t been time to tell. He barely had time to say hello before they were thrown into another fight for survival.

And it was one they lost.

But now Steve finds himself sitting outside more. Taking in all that _fresh air,_ hoping it might do something for him.

Something to calm the turmoil in his mind so he can think clearly and come up with a solution for this. He needs to fix this somehow.

“Well this seems real peaceful,” says a voice from behind him. Steve turns to see the small raccoon ambling over to him, small arms folded over his chest.

Steve only shrugs, “It’s nice.”

“Yeah I love staring at crashed spaceships,” Rocket says dryly, coming to sit beside him, “It really helps clear the mind.”

Steve smiles small and wry, “There are worse things,” he says and the raccoon snorts, settling down on the step, his small legs dangling off the edge of the tall step.

“Well yeah I mean I’ve seen Drax naked and that was _the worst_ but…” he trails off then shaking his head and looking away.

Steve leans back on his hands and sighs.

“That...tree…” he says slowly and the raccoon glares at him.

“His name was _Groot,”_ he says with something like anger and Steve just glances at him sidelong with a nod, “Yeah Groot, he was your friend?”

“He was a little shit,” Rocket mutters.

“He seemed nice,” Steve says and that earns him a funny look.

 _“Nice?_ The little asshole spent ninety percent of the time playing stupid games on his tablet and he…” he breaks off, looking away again with an audible sniff.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Steve says quietly, still looking out at the trees and seeing Bucky turn to dust over and over again.

“The last time he...I was able to keep some little piece of him and he grew back from that. This time…” he shakes his head and sighs, his paws clench and unclench in his lap.

“Was it only Groot?” Steve asks and the raccoon shakes his head, “Nah, your pal Stark was with the rest of those idiots. Apparently they’re all dead now.”

Steve can only nod his head and watch as the horizon becomes a riot of bright pinks, oranges, and golds. The rest of the sky looks almost bruised beside it.

“I’m sorry,” he says again and Rocket shrugs.

“You lost people too didn’t you?”

And it seems this is their currency now. Casual conversation is simply comparing their losses.

It’s becoming almost normal to think in numbers. How many are here, how many aren’t.

In a way it feels a lot like it did during the war, when they were always forced to think in those terms.

And yet it hardly feels like they fought in a war.

It feels like they barely fought one battle and then watched a genocide take place.

To Rocket’s question he nods, “You remember the guy with the metal arm? The one with metal wings? Or the woman with the red hair throwing fire?” He would add in Vision but he’s not sure how to describe Vision to anybody.

Rocket nods, “Yeah that metal arm was real cool.”

Steve looks away, “Yeah, I guess it was. There were others too but...” he breaks off, swallowing hard, “Losing Bucky again was…”

He can’t even say it although something in that statement catches Rocket’s attention. He looks back at Steve with raised brows, “Again?”

And Steve sighs, “It’s a long story.”

“Well shit dude, I don’t exactly have a lot to _do_ right now, do you?”

That gets a laugh out of Steve before he can even think about it.

“I guess not,” he murmurs and then quietly, beneath the setting sun he lays it out as minimally as possible. Growing up sick and small with Bucky in Brooklyn over seventy years ago. The war, the serum, the ice, and the Winter Soldier.

By the time he’s done, stars are starting to appear like pinholes in the deep purple and blue of the growing night sky.

“Shit,” Rocket says quietly, “That’s a pretty raw deal you got there.”

That makes Steve laugh again for some reason although it fades as quickly as it comes. Rocket is giving him a funny look again and he just shakes his head.

“I think every one of us has gotten a pretty raw deal wouldn’t you say?”

The raccoon looks away, “Yeah I guess so.”

The silence that falls is peaceful as more and more stars fill the blackening sky, punctuated by a full moon.

Eventually Rocket is the one to break the silence, “Thor said they call you Captain America?”

Steve winces a little, he’s never been comfortable with the name that was bestowed on him. He’s never felt like he should be the one representing this country, “Yeah, they do.”

“What’s America?” Rocket asks and something about that makes him grin.

“It’s this,” Steve gestures around them.

“What the planet? I thought you called this place Earth?”

Steve opens his mouth to explain when Natasha settles on his other side with a soft murmur of “This is cozy,” before leaning around him to tell Rocket, “America’s the name of the country we’re in.”  
“And where’s Missouri at?” Rocket asks them with a frown.

“Also in America, but that’s another state that’s southwest from where we are,” she says patiently and with a hint of amusement.

“Quill was from Missouri I guess,” Rocket tells them both with a shrug, “Maybe I should go see it sometime.”

“You should,” Steve agrees, privately he thinks there might be some hubbub if a foul mouthed raccoon showed up in Missouri but now is not the time to worry about such things.

Maybe if they undo what Thanos did Peter Quill can take Rocket to Missouri himself.

And as he considers this, Rocket pulls himself up off the step.

“Well I’m going to bed, unless you assholes have something to _drink_ around here?”

“There’s beer in the fridge,” Nat tells him.

“What’s beer?” Rocket asks and Natasha grins at him and says, “Something to drink.”

“Well alright then,” Rocket shrugs and heads back inside leaving Steve and Natasha staring after him bemused and amused.

“Do you think he’ll need help getting the beer _out_ of the fridge?” Steve asks quietly thinking of how high up that might be for the small raccoon but Nat shakes her head.

“I’m pretty sure Thor is already in there, he’ll help out Rocket if he needs it.”

Steve shakes his head a little, “I still can’t believe Thor made friends with a talking raccoon.”

“I can,” Natasha says, “And Thor apparently has no clue what raccoons are because he keeps calling him a rabbit.”

Steve can’t help but snort a little at that and Natasha smiles.

“Clint finally talked the other day,” she tells him quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, to Nebula in the gym.”

Steve nods and turns to face the backyard and the night sky once again.

“That’s good isn’t it?”

“It is,” Natasha agrees and leans her head on his shoulder.

And with that they sit and look up at the spray of stars covering the night sky.

It turns out, after the ending of the world the sun will still rise and set and the stars still shine just as bright.

There is something comforting in that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wanted to spend a little time on characters that might have gotten a little less screen time *Ahem HAWKEYE ahem* especially the ones I didn’t get to as much in chapter one like Rocket or like...Shuri?? I just breezed right past Wakanda didn’t I? Still idk where I’m going with this in terms of plot but the response has been amazing y’all. I really don’t know if I have a full serialized fix it in me but I think I will write more and thank you so much for reading and reviewing!!!
> 
> Oh and I don't think aliens would know about stuff like ducktape probably. If I recall rocket had tape in GOTG2 but I don't buy that.
> 
> Anywho I'm ladyknightthebrave on Tumblr if you want to follow me and cry with me about these poor kids who didn't deserve this.


	3. Adjustments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so there’s a character returning in this chapter that’s gonna seem outta left field but I looked at the cast for IW part 2 on IMDB and got VERY EXCITED about one particular character who seems to be returning...So like...maaaaybe there’s one little spoilers for Avengers 4 in here? IDK Y’all seem into this and I’m haven’t found the plot yet(ish) So let’s just see where this goes but uh...yeah...fair warning?
> 
> Also you may noticed I changed the title of chapter 2 and abandoned my chapter title ‘sorrow’ motif because I was running out of ideas for that Fast.

It’s evening at the Avengers Facility, just over a week after Thanos.

Rhodey sits alone in the kitchen, staring at the wall and aimlessly stirring a cup of coffee that has long since gone cold. He’s sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter. Before this area was always crowded full of people fighting for the few seats in the kitchen because the long table and all its seats were in the other room. So these three stools were always in high demand and those left standing would make do, perching on countertops or in one peculiar instance, on top of the fridge.

Now the kitchen is silent and empty. There is no rowdy bunch fighting over the last grilled cheese Tony whipped up because he felt like cooking at 3 A.M.

Right now Tony’s back down in the workshop where he’s been toiling almost nonstop since he was able to get up and leave the medical wing six days ago.

Rhodey’s tried to talk to him a few times. He knows Tony cared about the kid Peter. He barely knew him beyond fighting beside him at that airport in Berlin.

Still, he was sorry for Tony in the way he was sorry for all of them.

One might say that a byproduct of being a soldier is getting good at compartmentalizing.

In other words, dealing with death.

Even in terms of lost friends and allies, he’s lost more men to a few well placed grenades than he did when Thanos snapped his fingers.

Its that 3.5 billion he’s still trying to wrap his head around.

And the way his friends are walking around this place in a traumatized daze.

He didn’t even see Sam go.

One second Wilson was at his back saying something funny, and then he was gone.

Rhodey never blamed Sam for what happened with his legs, anymore than he blamed Vision.

And he _liked_ Sam, the same way he liked Steve. There was a certain mentality to a former soldier, a particularly morbid sense of humor that appealed to him.

 _“What do you call a soldier who survived mustard gas & pepper spray?” _Sam asked him once, completely out of the blue.

 _“What?”_ Rhodey asked.

 _“A seasoned veteran,”_ Sam replied and Tony was in the room staring at the both of them with his brows high on his head as Rhodey laughed helplessly for a solid minute.

That was just what Sam was like. He’d been standing beside Rhodey as the invading force raced up to crash gruesomely into Wakanda’s shield. The electricity of it was burning them, searing their flesh and burning off limbs.

 _“Wow they’re really cooking aren’t they?”_ Sam had observed quietly and Rhodey could only nod, unable to look away from that truly horrific sight.

_“I prefer my aliens well done, y’know?”_

And once again, Rhodey could only laugh, getting weird looks from Natasha and Steve who were in earshot. During the fight they both soared above it all, watching each other’s backs and fighting tooth and nail to stay alive and protect their friends.

Much good that it did them.

In the present, Rhodey sighs, staring down at the marble countertops.

“Colonel Rhodes, what ails you?”

Rhodey turns to see Thor standing in the doorway, a look of concern in his mismatched eyes.

“Oh nothing,” Rhodey murmurs, turning back to his cold cup of coffee, “Just death and destruction.” He glances sidelong at Thor, “So you know, a Tuesday.”

Thor chuckles as he makes a beeline for the fridge, opening it and pulling out a beer. He popsthe cap off before glancing at Rhodey’s coffee and then his face.

“Would you like some?” he asks holding out the bottle and Rhodey shakes his head.

“No, I’m good thanks.”

Thor nods and takes a sip of his beer, leaning back against the countertop.

“You seem to have much on your mind Colonel Rhodes,” he says and Rhodey looks down at his coffee.

“I’m just thinking about everyone we lost I guess.”

Thor watches him for a long moment before taking another gulp of beer and saying, “I too have found myself similarly preoccupied of late.”

Rhodey looked up at him then, eyes narrowing and brows furrowing as he considered his next words carefully.

“I heard something happened with your brother, but in all the craziness I never…” he trails off and Thor nods.

“Well first my father died back on Asgard and then I found out I had a sister and she was evil and tried to take over Asgard.”

“Shit,” Rhodey murmurs and Thor just smiles.

“Well that was all fine, we got her in the end and we just had to bring about the Ragnarok to do it.”

Rhodey stares at him blankly and then Thor almost laughs, “Oh of course, Ragnarok was a prophecy...or well...It was the end of days, the destruction of Asgard.”

Rhodey gapes, sometimes he would forget Thor is sort of a god and his adventures tended to be so much larger than life.

“So we destroyed Asgard and also my sister cut out my eye,” he says casually while Rhodey stares, slack jawed.

“But that was fine, we got most of the Asgardians out, my brother was with me again along with my friends,” and his smile fades, “And then our ship was overtaken by Thanos,” he says and any trace of humor or joy is gone.

“His people killed nearly everyone aboard that ship, including my brother. Only quick thinking by Valkyrie and Heimdall saved a precious few of my people, not to mention Banner.”

Slowly, Rhodey nods as Thor takes a deep gulp of his beer.

“Wow I’m really sorry,” he says as Thor stares, dissatisfied at what is now apparently an empty bottle, before going to the fridge for another, “I can’t imagine what that must have been like,”

“I hope you never have to,” Thor replies with an attempt at another smile as he pops the cap off the second bottle. He takes a drink before leaning back against the countertop, “You know my father told me that Asgard is not a place, it’s a people.”

Rhodey winces already guessing where this is going as Thor tries on another ill-fitting smile, “At this point we’re hardly even a people anymore. We’re what your people on Midgard might call an endangered species.”

“Thor…” he starts to say, but the god just waves a hand at him.

“Do not try to explain it to me Colonel. The entire universe is grieving now and I could have lost them all just as easily when Thanos used his gauntlet. I know that.”

He takes another gulp of beer as Rhodey bites the inside of his cheek remembering the boisterous man who once spent a gleeful evening learning the _‘delightful Midgardian tradition of Go Fish!’_

He knows all too well how grief can change a person. It’s painful to see it happen though, and everywhere Rhodey looks it’s all he sees. In that way this really does feel like a war.

And maybe Thor can tell somehow what’s bothering him, because he says, “Please do not trouble yourself Colonel. I will be well once I’ve buried Stormbreaker in Thanos’ skull.”

And Rhodey shakes his head ruefully, “Amen to that,” and holds up his cold coffee like a toast. Thor holds his bottle up in return and Rhodey almost takes a drink. Except he’s been sitting here for two hours and cold, bitter coffee feels like the last thing he needs right now.

Something behind Rhodey catches Thor’s attention, “Hail and well met my rabbit friend!” he says with a trace of real enthusiasm as Rocket the raccoon ambles into the room.

Rhodey opens his mouth to say something, he’s not even sure what, but he’s pretty sure Thor doesn’t understand the difference between a rabbit and a _raccoon._

“Eh, don’t even bother dude,” Rocket says shaking a hand at him before climbing up onto the stool on Rhodey’s left.

Only once he’s settled on the seat, standing on it rather than sitting so the countertop doesn’t come up to his chin, he says, “The captain guy said you guys have drinks in here?”

“Oh _yes,”_ Thor says, “There is the juice of oranges, and water, and--”

“--The redhead said you have beer?” Rocket interrupts what might have been a very comprehensive list of the entire contents of the fridge.

“Of course,” Thor says and pulls out another bottle, handing it to Rocket.

“We should drink and be merry,” he says and Rocket snorts.

“Whatever dude, I just want to get drunk.”

Thor looks amused as he takes another drink from his bottle and Rhodey glances down again at his coffee.

“On second thought, Thor I could do with one of those too,” he says pointing at the beer in Thor’s hands and the man smiles, big and boisterous.

“Yes we _shall_ drink and be merry now,” he says and Rhodey laughs a little.

“Sure man, we’ll only regret it in the morning.”

“And that is hours away. Now is the time for drowning our sorrows in drink,” Thor says, arms held out wide and expansive like he’s speaking to a theater full of people and not one tired ex-colonel and an alien raccoon.

“I’ll drink to that,” Rocket says and takes a deep drink with Thor and Rhodey following suit.

And for the record, he did regret it the next morning.

He’s fairly sure Natasha wandered into the kitchen an hour or so later with Steve and stared at the three of them with great amusement as they attempted an overly complicated game of charades that lacked any sense or coordination or coherence.

It was worth it though, if only to see some smiles in this house.

If only for a short time.

\---

Not long after he had been able to leave the medical wing, he had asked Friday to check in on the status of May Parker. A day or so later, Friday came back with the news that May Parker had died along with everyone else. She had apparently been alone in their shitty little apartment.

After that he sent Friday off on another search.

Because somebody had to know. Somebody out there would want to know what had happened to him.

A few more days passed before Friday came back with a name.

Then it just took Tony a few more days before he worked up the guts to leave his lab.

That’s how he ends up at Ned Leeds' door, early on a Saturday morning with Starbucks because he has no idea what to bring to a ‘Hey your friend is dead’ talk.

When he rings the doorbell a tired looking women with brown skin and black hair answers the door with, “Who are you?”

“Uh, my name is Tony Stark,” he says and when that gets a blank look he adds, “It’s about Ned’s friend Peter.”

The woman scowls at him suspiciously before saying, “Wait here.”

She shuts the door behind her and he can hear a loud call of, _“Ned, a man is here about your friend Peter,”_ which is quickly followed by some crashing sounds and the door is ripped open to reveal a kid around Peter’s age with the same complexion as his mom and eyes that go wide at the sight of Tony.

“Holy shit you’re Iron Man,” he says and Tony kind of wants the ground to eat him alive.

“Yeah, I am uh...hi…” then he hands Ned one of the two Starbucks cups, it’s a mocha while Tony is drinking a soy cappuccino.

“Um,” Ned says, accepting the drink while still gaping at Tony.

“Let’s sit down and talk, can we do that?” Tony asks and Ned nods.

Tony sits down slowly on their front step, with a wince for his still healing side and the kid follows suit, now looking a little more sober.

“Mom said you’re here about Peter?” he asks quietly and Tony wants to die rather than break the news to this open faced kid.

“Yeah,” he says, buying time by taking a sip of his cappuccino. Ned just holds his mocha with both hands and says very quietly, “He’s dead isn’t he?”

It takes all of Tony’s self control to not choke on his stupid drink.

“Um…” he says and the kid gives him a look.

“I’m not stupid, he ran off to do Avengers stuff the second aliens show up and then half the world _died.”_

“Half the universe actually,” Tony says before he can stop himself and the kid’s eyes get saucer big again.

“Holy shit,” he whispers and Tony just nods.

“You’re going to kick their ass though, aren’t you?” Ned asks, “Whoever did this I mean.”

Tony takes another drink before saying, “We’re working on it.”

“Well work _harder,”_ Ned bursts out in an abrupt display of temper that passes an instant later.

“Sorry, sorry Mr. Stark, I just…”

“It’s fine kid. Really.”

And Ned nods, still abashed and looking away for a moment, one hand absently fiddling with the loose edge of the label on his cup, while the other swipes roughly at his eyes to try and remove any errant moisture. Tony just sits, feeling like he deserves a lot more anger than that, but also content to just sit and wait this kid out.

“Mr. Stark?”

“Yeah?”

“What happened?” he asks so quietly it almost gets blown away by a passing breeze.

“I mean, I know it’s probably top secret and you can’t tell me everything but…” he trails off, his mouth an unhappy line.

And Tony considers telling him everything.

Then he considers telling him the good parts. The parts where his friend was a hero and a part of the Avengers and Tony couldn’t have been more proud of how hard he tried.

That is what Tony ends up telling him. How Peter stowed away on a spaceship, and it was his idea which saved a wizard, and how he helped wrestle a god.

As he talks, Ned watches him, eyes wide and shining. Occasional he murmurs a soft, _“cool,”_ but he does not interrupt and when Tony runs out of the good things he trails off into pained silence.

“And then...well…”

Ned looks away, coated in sadness that he is far too young for.

“After he told me he was Spiderman, I thought it was cool at first,” he says quietly, “Basically an Avenger going off to fight with Iron Man and stuff...but then I got scared because what he was doing was dangerous,” he looks at Tony then and Tony will never know how this kid can look at him like he wasn’t the engineer of Peter’s death. He just looks at Tony for a long moment, before nodding and turning away, rubbing his nose on the sleeve of his sweater and wiping at his eyes again.

“I’m glad he got to do all that stuff first though. All he ever wanted was to be an Avenger so…Basically it was a dream come true up until…”

He looks at Tony again and then at the drink still sitting, untouched in his hands.

“Yeah,” Tony says lamely because he has _no idea what to say to that._

“Yeah,” Ned says like he’s agreeing to something and then he finally takes a drink of his mocha.

After that they quietly drink their over expensive coffees in silence. Only when their cups are empty does Ned stand up and look down at him.

“Thanks for coming here Mr. Stark, and...For the coffee…” he smiles lopsided as he waggles the empty cup back and forth and Tony tries a smile back with mixed success as he pushes himself to his feet.

“It’s not a problem kid I...I’m glad I could…”

Tony is really terrible at this but Ned just nods like he completely understands.

“And you’ll kick that evil alien’s ass?” he asks, voice close to breaking.

“Absolutely,” Tony says, “Once we can find him I will kick his ass into the middle of next week.”

“Cool, thanks Mr. Stark.”

“You’re welcome kid.”

\---

Tony trudges into the facility wanting to find a bottle of vodka or whiskey or _something_ and get blind drunk for the next week.

He still hasn’t thought about Pepper that much. He avoids thinking of her at all costs. Because if he thinks of her or Happy, compounded with the child who turned to smoke and nothing before his eyes he might come apart at every seam.

So he doesn’t think about Pepper.

And he made sure Peter’s friend knows what happened to him.

Now he can just focus on how to neutralize the gauntlet.

But he needs to get drunk first. That is his number one priority.

He opens the door and Friday chimes, “Good afternoon Mr. Stark.”

“Whatever,” Tony replies continuing his path towards his workshop or the kitchen, he hasn’t decided yet but he’s leaning toward finding a bottle of something into the kitchen to take down to the workshop where he will proceed to get completely shitfaced.

He’s almost to the kitchen when there’s hears a knock on the front door.

\---

Nebula watches Tony Stark walk in the door like he’s weighted down. She watches his slow progress down the hall towards the kitchen without a word or comment from where she’s sitting at the bottom of the stairs, facing the front door.

The knocking comes as a surprise.

If only because she’s been here for almost two weeks now and this is the first time someone has come knocking on the door. She glances back to find Tony frozen in place a ways down the hall.

He must have heard it too.

But he doesn’t move to open the door. There is another knock at the door and the sound is very annoying and Tony isn’t moving.

So Nebula gets up and opens the door to reveal...A boy.

A tall one, but he’s scrawny in the way young Terrans seem to be in her limited experience. He has light brown hair that curls and spots across his nose that she’s been informed are called ‘freckles.’ His blue eyes seem to widen as he sees her.

Because blue people are apparently uncommon on Earth. How dull.

“Who are you?” she asks and his voice cracks awkwardly as he replies, “Um I was hoping to find Tony Stark? Are you an alien?”

And suddenly Tony is right beside her, peering through the open door at this boy.

“Harley what the hell are you doing here?”

At that exact moment, Bruce Banner appears at the top of the stairs, loudly clattering down in the most ungainly fashion. All the while he is shouting, _“Guys, guys I have an idea,”_ closely followed by Natasha, who descends much more gracefully.

Everybody stops and stares at him, including the boy in the doorway.

Steve Rogers, Rocket, and Thor all step out of the kitchen and into the hall to investigate the racket.

Clint Barton and Colonel Rhodes appear at the top of the stairs looking equally curious, or possibly concerned.

Suddenly this front room is full and Bruce Banner is practically shaking in his eagerness to tell them all his idea.

Tony just stares at them all and then at Nebula herself. He looks exhausted and overwhelmed and when he opens his mouth to say something, a loud and hollow sounding piece of music plays from Natasha’s pocket. The woman stares down at it with a frown and now all eyes in the room are locked on her as she reaches into her pocket and pulls out what the Terran’s call a ‘cell phone.’ She taps the screen before putting it to her ear.

“Hello?”

And from where Nebula stands, she can hear the tinny response.

_“Ms. Romanov, my name is Carol Danvers, I hear you might be needing some help.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I still don’t have a clear idea where I’m going plot-wise but I’m trying to get us somewhere.  
> Also I’m going to say this now, I have a hard time with Rhodey as a character. Mostly because I think his strongest characterization was in Iron Man 1 with Terrence Howard. It’s no offense to Don Cheadle but barring stuff in Iron Man 2(which was not my favorite and I’ve almost entirely forgotten it) Rhodey has mostly been written as Iron Man’s good, good wing man with the occasional witty retort and that's it? So I didn’t want to leave Rhodey out, but I struggled writing him. I did want to spend some time on characters like Falcon, Rhodey, and Thor who have had minimal page time by this point so...hopefully that didn’t suck.
> 
> And I googled that ‘well seasoned’ joke there were even worse ones but that joke ain’t mine so just a PSA there
> 
> Also yeah according to IMDB Harley from Iron Man 3 is going to be in the next one??? I’m so excited. Also I read about some Q&A Joe Russo did where he said Valkyrie and some of the Asgardians escaped and I went YES THEY SURE DID.
> 
> Anywho what else...um Tony is a disaster, bless him. And just another reminder I’m getting my tonsils out this coming Tuesday! And then I probably won’t be posting a new chapter for a bit so...we’ll see how that goes and if I can make another chapter happen before then, I have no idea. Ok I’m done talking at you now.


	4. Newcomers

There’s a kid at the door, and a woman named Carol who Natasha doesn’t know somehow has her number, and Natasha was just sitting in Bruce’s office when he suddenly jumped ten feet in the air and took off running and yelling about an idea.

So she has a lot to deal with right now as the rest of teammates seem to appear one by one, curious as to the source of all the noise and now they’re probably just curious.

Admittedly so is she, as Tony keeps anxiously glancing at the kid in the doorway, who by the looks of things is only a year or two younger than Peter Parker was...So _that_ might be an issue.

She does not know what Bruce’s idea was to begin, not a single clue. One second he was aimlessly doodling on a notepad and the next he’s jumping like he’s been struck by lightning.

And then there is a woman who has her private (i.e. top secret) cell number.

Natasha stares at all the faces in the room and then at the phone in her hand.

“How did you get this number?” She asks the woman on the phone.

“Nick Fury,” she responds and Natasha almost reflexively sucks in a breath before saying, “Nick Fury is dead.”

She can hear a gusty sigh through the speaker.

“I was afraid of that,” Carol says.

And Natasha eyes Bruce and then the boy at the door.

“...Can I call you back?” she asks and she can feel everybody wanting to speak at once, the air in the room is taut with it. She just holds up one finger to maintain silence.

“Absolutely.”

“Perfect.”

Natasha hangs up the phone.

“Who was that Natasha?” several people ask in varying iterations almost in unison.

“Everyone _hang on,”_ she says, raising her voice the slightest bit to let it carry, “One nut at a time please.”

With that she turns to Tony, Nebula, who has been leaning against the doorframe, and the teenager whose been watching them all with eyes the size of dinner plates. His clothes are on the dirty side and his hair seems to be beyond the usual state of disheveled she has seen touted as a style among the youth. It just hangs over his eyes in ungainly waves.

“Who are you?” she asks the kid and Tony opens his mouth to speak but she shoots him a look.

“Harley Keener,” the boy says and his eyes keep flicking between her, Tony, and Nebula with obvious confusion.  
_“Nat,”_ Tony says quietly and she gives him one more look before nodding and taking a step back.

“Harley, why aren’t you back home in Rose Hill?” Tony asks and the kid is still eyeing her and Nebula and whoever else is standing behind them.

“My mom’s gone,” he says quietly and Tony almost flinches but Harley plows onward, “She vanished in the...y’know _the thing?”_

 _“Shit”_ Tony mutters, one hand pressing down over his eyes, his thumb and pointer pressing into his temples like he’s getting a headache.

“And I know it’s been a long time since I helped you fix your Iron Man suit but…”

And now Natasha is staring at Tony as are most of the others in the room with raised eyebrows.

Natasha really wants to ask how often Tony drags children into his messes.

Tony must read her expression for what it is, because he says, “Okay _look,_ my place had just been blown up by the Mandarin and while I was unconscious the suit jettisoned me to _Tennessee and crashed and…”_ he trails off looking helpless while the kid jams his hands into his pockets.

“I just wanted to help,” Harley says barely louder than a mumble, “and I figured you guys would be trying to fix what happened.”

The kid looks up at them both, clearly trying to make sad eyes and Tony just points a finger at him, _“Don’t start.”_

“Don’t you have family that will be wondering where you are?” Natasha asks delicately and he  just shakes his head, “Nope.”

“How did you even get here kid?” Tony asks sounding more than a little frayed.

“I hitchhiked,” he replies with a shrug and Tony claps a hand to his forehead, _“Jesus.”_

“There’s no harm in letting him stay is there?” Steve asks from behind them, taking a step forward to put a hand on Tony’s shoulder, “We have the room after all.”

Tony is still just shaking his head, _“Jesus.”_

“How old are you exactly?” Natasha asks and the kid straightens, up to his full height which is just shy of eye level with her, “I’m 15,” he says like that’s a feat worthy of pride.

 _“Jesus,”_ Tony says again.

“Steve can you work with Friday to get him set up with a room somewhere?” she asks Steve because he likes kids and kids generally like Captain America so that should go smoothly enough. He catches her eye as if to say, _you and I will need to talk later_ and with that Steve steers Harley up the steps, introducing himself with ease, “Hey, I’m Steve Rogers,” while the kid just says, _“Holy shit you’re Captain America.”_

As they turn the corner out of sight, she turns her attention back to Tony, who looks ready to start hyperventilating.

“Do you have any more teenage assistants we need to know about?” she asks, dry as desert sand.

 _“No,”_ Tony said sounding close to petulant and also deeply exhausted.Then Natasha turns her attention to Bruce.

 _“Now,_ what was this big idea of yours?” she asks and the tension in the room shifts, redirecting again.

“Oh well, okay so remember when we had to track the tesseract using Loki’s staff?” he asks the room and Natasha nods, along with Tony. Clint, and Thor look utterly blank. As does Rhodey, Nebula, and Rocket.

“What we ended up tracking was a particular gamma radiation signature that the staff was giving off…” he trails off and Natasha sees the light bulb go off for Tony too, “And it was the same radiation being given off by the Tesseract.”

“Which we now know, is one of the _Infinity Stones,”_ Bruce says excitedly.

“So you’re thinking all the stones might give off that radiation signature?” Natasha asks them.

“We know Vision’s stone was always emitting some low level radiation,” Tony says, and he’s getting excited too although something about the look she gives him makes him add, “The radiation was _low level”_

“And when we had to track Loki, Tony hacked the global satellites to scan for that radiation signature,” Bruce continues, still nearly bursting with the revelation.

“And that was just _one_ Infinity Stone,” Tony says, pointing at Bruce decisively, “Thanos has five of them, which should amplify that radiation signature _exponentially.”_

They both stop, looking at her, and everyone else in the room who is just staring at them blankly. Rocket is the one who finally speaks up, “So you’re saying you guys can track Thanos?”

“There’s one problem,” Natasha says, her lips forming a thin line, “Thanos is most likely not on Earth, which means we need a way to scan the entire galaxy and I doubt we can hack our satellites to do _that.”_

She can practically see Bruce and Tony deflate and that was not her intention. She sighs as she pats Tony’s cheek and Bruce’s shoulder.

“It’s a good start guys, now we just need to figure out how to use it.”

With that she pulls her phone out of her pocket and heads upstairs to shut herself in her room. She can’t have a meaningful and clear conversation with 10 pairs of eyes locked on her. As soon as her door clicks shut, she hits the redial and presses the phone to her ear.

\---

“So how exactly did you meet Tony?” Steve asks lightly, as they follow lit floor panels, courtesy of Friday who is currently directing them to what she says will be a good room for Harley.

“Oh well um,” Harley begins with a very teenager-y shrug, “I guess he crashed his suit and some bad stuff was happening so he broke into my mom’s garage to try and steal some parts to fix his suit.”

Steve tries very hard not to be visibly appalled by every part of that statement.

Harley continues, seemingly unaware of how deeply troubling his last statement was, “Mostly I just ran diagnostics on Jarvis and Tony had a lot of panic attacks.”

Steve bites back a sigh as the floor panels finally stop at a door. A glance around showed that this is only a few doors down from Natasha’s room and Clint’s.

 _Interesting choice,_ he muses to himself with a glance up at the ceiling as the door clicks open of its own accord.

 _“This room should suit you well Mr. Keener,”_ Friday says politely and Harley steps into what is yet another excessively large suite. Steve is still uncomfortable with how large his own room is, but apparently Tony considers this to be a standard size.

“Woah,” Harley says, staring wide eyed around the room. Steve just stands in the doorway patiently while the kid goes and discovers the equally large attached bathroom with an exclamation of _“Holy shit.”_

When he comes back out of the bathroom and drops his bag on the bed, he looks back to Steve, "That blue lady was an alien right?” he asks and Steve can’t help a small chuckle as he nods, “Yes, her name is Nebula.”

 _“Cool,”_ Harley breathes, and finally the awe seems to fade and his expression sobers before adding, “You guys _are_ going to do something to bring everybody back aren’t you?”

Steve sighs and sits down on the bed beside the kid.

“Right now we’re still trying to figure out how to do that, and to be honest I’m not sure we’ll have a lot for you to do to help out right now,” he says gently.

“I helped Tony with his suit before,” Harley says, close to indignant.

“I know you did, but this is different and Tony’s…” Steve trails off unsure of what to say, “This isn’t like last time and Tony’s been through a lot.”

Harley nods, a small frown forming as he looks up at Steve, “Is he having panic attacks again?”

“I don’t know,” Steve says quietly, he tries not to dwell on how much he doesn’t know. Finally he claps his hands together and gets to his feet, “Just know we’ve got a well stocked kitchen and ask Friday if you need anything okay?”

“Yeah okay,” Harley says with a frown and with that Steve goes to find Natasha because it seems that they should probably have a talk.

\---

“Hello Carol,” Natasha says, settling down at her desk with her phone pressed to her ear.

“Hello Natasha,” Carol replies sounding faintly amused.

“So what exactly was the message you received from Nick Fury?” Natasha asks, because clarity is needed now and Nick Fury was rarely straightforward. She can hear a sigh through the speaker.

“Basically I worked with Nick Fury back in the nineties in the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. It’s been a long time and I haven’t been planetside in awhile, but before I left, I told Nick him that if he ever needed my help he could reach out. He had a communication device to get a hold of me and a few days ago I got a message from him. All it said was _‘Mayday’_ and there was a short list of phone numbers. Yours is the only one that answered.”

It takes Natasha a minute to process all of that.

“So you haven’t been on Earth,” she finally says aloud.

“Yeah, I haven’t been for awhile," Carol replies.

“Did a lot of people suddenly turn into dust where _you_ were?” Natasha asks feeling caught between exhaustion and absurdity.

Carol makes a small noise of disbelief, _“No,_ what the hell has been going on down there?”

And Natasha sits up a little straighter in her chair, “That didn’t happen where you were at all?”

“I’ve been on a solo reconnaissance for the last few months,” Carol replies slowly, sounding on edge.

“What exactly has been happening while I’ve been away?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, sorry this is so short, I'm still recovering from my tonsillectomy and the pain medication makes me sleepy.  
> But yeah, hope you like what's here I know its a lot of exposition.  
> Also I will say I do not know much about Carol Danvers and what I do know from the few comics and a very helpful tumblr user named dearatna who gave me a pretty good rundown, might be completely invalid when the movie comes out next year. All I know is the movie is taking place during the 90s so I'm using that and a sort of slap and dash grab of whatever details jumped out at me from what I've read on her. Her personality is probably going to be nothing like the upcoming movie or the comics...like yeah...I am in the unknown right now with her.  
> Anyway I hope to be back on my feet next week and maybe I'll get a proper chapter out sometime after that.


	5. Plans and Panics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um trigger warning for some mildly detailed descriptions of a panic attack?  
> 

In another dimension far away, Peter Parker stands alone beneath an orange sky, surrounded by an empty featureless landscape of copper sand. When he materialized moments before, his face still wet with tears, gasping out the latter half on an apology, he froze as his eyes opened to this new place.

 _Am I dead?_ He wondered, _Am I in heaven? Or hell? Or somewhere else?_

Of course there was no response and given his sparse theological knowledge, he settled on somewhere else before getting to his feet.

 _“Hello?”_ He calls out into empty vastness around him, “ _Is there anybody out there?”_

For a long moment he stands, straining to hear anything at all beyond his own ragged breathing..

Finally there's a sound, a faint cry of assent, he can barely make out words but he thinks he can hear a reply of _“Yes.”_

And he doesn't have a whole lot to go on right now, so he follows that voice in the hopes he'll find someone who can explain what the hell is going on?

\---

 _“Fucking hell,”_ Carol murmurs as Natasha finishes recounting the events of the last few days in as few words as possible.

“Yeah, so I don't mean to be rude, but why did Nick reach out to you? What is it that you can _do?”_ Natasha says, knowing there just isn't enough time for niceties.

“Well I can fly, and uh...super strength,” Carol rattled her skills off the way one might recite a grocery list, “I can shoot energy bolts from my hands and… _Oh yeah_ I can fly _in_ space.”

“Useful skills,” Natasha murmurs, equally unfazed, her powers sound mostly similar to Wanda, although its the flying in space that catches her eye. Perhaps Nick had a couple people he planned to call and he only got the chance to dial that first number.

Natasha sighs into the phone, “Okay, do you need coordinates? Don’t expect much of a reception though, we lost a lot of people.”

“Nick gave me coordinates,” she says sounding almost distracted before adding “Could you check on the status of someone for me?”

“Sure,” Nat grabs a pen and paper and waits as she hears the other woman take a breath.

“There’s a kid in Jersey City, I’ve been keeping an eye on her. Kamala Khan, goes by Ms. Marvel, Could you check and see if her and her family are okay?”

“Will do,” Natasha replies, capping her pen and setting it on her bedside table with a decisive thump, “What’s your ETA?”

There’s a load of static that almost sounds like wind and makes Natasha wince and pull the phone away from her ear, “Oh I’ll probably be there by tomorrow if the weather holds,” Natasha can just make out the reply over the noise and she stares at her phone a moment before asking, “Are you flying here right now?”

There’s a muted chuckle, “Well I figured it might be hell to get a taxi and as I may have mentioned, I was off-world. It took me a day or two just to get in range, and I seem to have hit a bit of an asteroid field.”

Natasha is happy that no one is here to see her briefest look of genuine shock and surprise.

“Well, we’ll see you tomorrow then Carol.”

“See you tomorrow Natasha,”

She hangs up the phone and sits silently in her room for a long time. Finally when she’s ready to deal with the next hurdle she asks Friday to look up the name Carol gave her and goes to find Steve.

\---

Tony fled down to his workshop, because this is what Tony always does. He had fully intended on getting blind drunk but that’s probably not going to happen now that there’s a child in his house. So he intends to tinker with his models until his hands stop shaking.

He’s only been down for a few minutes before Nebula appears, silent and calm. He wouldn’t have even noticed she was there if the doorway didn’t let off a little bell to notify him.

She doesn’t say a word and neither does he, although he watches out of the corner of his eye as she makes her way to his couch where she makes herself comfortable.

He’s busy with his models and really doesn’t feel like talking right now. Except for the fact that he’s physically allergic to silence when there are other people in the room.

“So the kid,” he says abruptly breaking the silence and getting Nebula’s full attention like a laser beam that might just cut a new hole in his chest, “The one from Titan?”

Nebula nods slowly, her expression giving nothing away, so Tony barrels onwards because this is another thing he does, just keep talking until the problem resolves itself or he fractures.

“I uh...I wasn’t able to find any living relatives, but I found his best friend I think, and I told him that his friend died.”

He throws a tool down on his counter and startles at the volume of the metal hitting the wood of his worktop. Nebula barely even blinks.

“And now Harley’s here which is _great,_ because I am absolutely not going to lose my mind whenever I encounter teenagers now that would be weird right?” He stops to catch his breath and Nebula just sits and watches him with a critical eye. Almost like she’s studying him.

“That would be strange,” she says slowly, “This child in no way resembles... _Peter,”_ she says his name carefully and Tony absolutely does not think about what it felt like when the kid turned to sand beneath his fingers.

“Exactly,” Tony says pointing an unsteady finger at her, “Totally different kid, and different situation and…” he stops talking because he’s run out of air in his chest and without thinking about he just sort of sinks to the floor before he falls down because he _can’t breathe._

He sits, knees half curled towards his chest and tries to just breathe.

Distantly he can hear footsteps as Nebula walks around the table to stand over him, her mouth pulled back in a grimace.

“You can just go upstairs,” he gasps out, “It’s fine, this happens sometimes.”

And slowly she kneels down to eye level, still squinting.

“Are you…” she trails off.

“I’m just panicking about nothing, it’s a--uh _Terran_ thing,” he says between breaths, still feeling sure he might be suffocating and like there isn’t enough air in his lungs.

“You have no injuries,” she says, flat and unmoving.

“I know,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut, the words straining to get out.

“Terrans are so fragile,” she scoffs under her breath and yet she remains there, almost like she’s monitoring him.

It’s times like these when he misses Jarvis, which makes him think about Vision and that’s not helping either.

Abruptly Nebula gets to her feet and Tony just watches her go.

 _This is better,_ he tells himself. _It’s best to deal with these things alone._

He bows his head down, feeling the weight of the dead and gone.

\---

Humans are weak creatures.

If Nebula had displayed that kind of vulnerability, even in her younger, more fragile years, she would have been killed on the spot.

Of course, she remembers those first few months after Thanos dragged her from her home planet kicking and screaming. She remembers Gamora, who had already been with him for a year, and the way she would lay a hand on Nebula’s on shoulder.

 _“You have to be stronger than him if you want to survive,”_ she would say softly when Thanos wasn’t around to hear her. _“If he thinks you’re weak he’ll kill you.”_

But when he wasn’t around to see, she would cry and scream until there was no air left in her lungs.

In the beginning Gamora would be there and she would hold onto Nebula and tell her it would all be okay.

If Gamora had been here today, she could have helped Stark. She was always more capable of being kind.

Of course, when they were girls growing up, Gamora eventually stopped sitting with her and Nebula stopped crying. At some point there were no more whispered words of encouragement as they were pitted against each other over and over again, and Nebula lost every time.

That still stings, even now. Even after hearing her sister apologizing for being a child who was trying to survive.

Maybe it stings because in the end she didn’t.

Nebula considers this as she storms through Stark’s cavernous facility.

She has no help to give him and no gentle words.

She should just walk away and leave him to it and yet, in Gamora’s absence, a very stupid part of her wants to be kind. Yet it feels like kindness is not a part of her makeup.

But one of the others might do better.

Alone in a hallway she says, “AI, can you find Romanoff?”

“Of course,” the artificial intelligence replies in a tone she finds disgustingly chipper. About ten seconds passes in silence before the AI says, “She’s currently on the third floor. Would you like me to inform her you are looking for her?”

“Inform her that her presence is requested in Stark’s workshop,” Nebula says before turning and going back the way she came.

She won’t go all the way back downstairs. Something about witnessing all that raw emotion makes her uncomfortable. So she climbs down the stairs, stopping directly before the point where the door will chime to inform Stark of her presence. She stands on the threshold and crosses her arms.

From here she can hear that he is still breathing and that will do.

\---

Natasha finds Steve in the hall outside her room, hands jammed in his pockets, trying very hard to look casual and not like he’s been standing there for several minutes waiting for her.

Nat can tell all of this in a single once over glance and she can’t help a small smirk.

“Hey,” she says, opening her door wider, “Let’s not chat in the hall.”

“Okay,” he says and walks into her room, shutting the door behind him.

She sits on her bed and Steve, after a brief glance around the room, pulls out the chair from her desk and sits there.

“You wanted to talk?” she asks, letting her lips pull into a hint of a smirk.

“Yeah, what did that woman on the phone have to say?”

“I guess Fury sent her a message before he died. She has a lot of powers like Wanda did. Flight and shooting energy. She can fly in space and that might be something,” Natasha rattles this all off letting her eyes drift towards the ceiling and back to Steve.

“Why did Fury call her in particular?” Steve asks and Natasha has to shrug.

“I don’t know Steve. It sounds like she has some impressive abilities, but I really don’t know.”

He nods, eyes lowered. Natasha waits, she knows there is more to discuss but sometimes Steve is too polite to just say what he’s thinking.

“Was that all?” she prods him.

“No,” he says glancing up at her almost ruefully.

“Well then?”

And she watches him turn thoughtful. She can practically see the gears turning as he tries to say whatever is on his mind.

“I can’t help but notice,” he says after an age, “That you’ve taken more of a...a _leadership_ role.”

“Does that bother you?” she asks, her tone even. The look Steve gives her is incredulous as he says, _“God no,_ Nat who do you take me for?” he shakes his head at her before adding, “I care that this team _works,_ that we achieve our goals, and that everyone left stays alive.”

She blinks. That was not the answer she expected.

“I just…” he begins, hesitating on his words because Steve has always tried to choose his words with care. It’s an attribute of his that she has always appreciated.

“I see what you're doing,” he says finally, hands out and open, “And I’m not judging it, I appreciate you stepping up after…” He stops to swallow hard and she sits up a little straighter.

“Steve, nobody’s going to judge what your performance as _captain_ has been these last few weeks,” she says slowly. Again he glances at her for a second and then looks away with half a smile, “I know Nat, I _just…”_ he trails off again and Nat waits.

“Did you know Tony gets panic attacks?” he asks.

“Steve,” she murmurs and he just shakes his head and continues, “I know you see the way Clint is just walking around like a ghost. I never know what’s going on with Bruce or Thor and now we’ve got a couple of aliens and a kid running around and I’m…”

“I know,” she says because he doesn’t need to say it but he does anyway.

“I’m thinking about Bucky _all the time,_ or Sam, or Wanda, or Vision,” he stops there but she can tell he wants to say more and she says with a sigh, “Steve if you list them all, we will be here all day.”

That actually gets a wry chuckle out of him.

“Sorry,” he says.

“Don’t be,” she tells him, “Nobody expects you to fix everything overnight.”

“You’re trying to though,” he says stubbornly pointing a finger at her and she can’t help the smirk that creeps onto her lips.

“I’m just compartmentalizing better than you right now,” she says quietly, “It doesn’t mean you’ve failed somehow as _Captain America_ because you’re grieving.”

He sighs, the sadness in his eyes lessening as he brushes it aside, one hand passing over his eyes like he can just wave it away. She recognizes that look too.

Once he’s gotten himself under control he looks at her sidelong with a hint of a smile, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to unload on you.”

“It’s fine. We’re all just coping right now,” she says, still smiling because she means it.

“I wish Sam were here,” Steve says, looking down at his hands, “He was always better at this than I was.”

Natasha is on the edge of asking _what_ Sam was specifically better at when Friday chimes in quietly from an overhead speaker.

“Sorry to interrupt Ms. Romanoff, but your presence was requested in Mr. Stark’s workshop.”

Both Steve and Natasha turned to stare up at the ceiling. People are basically never invited down to the workshop. She gets up slowly, her brows knitting in a frown as she tries to guess what this might be about.

“Should I come too?” Steve asks, nearly jumping to his feet.

“No, I’m sure Friday would have notified me if it was a medical emergency,” she says waving a hand at him. They both step out into the hall and Steve just stands there as she takes off at a jog.

\---

Tony sits on the floor, trying to get himself under control. He knows he’s not actually dying. He knows the world isn’t ending a second time.

With nobody in earshot he doesn’t care what it sounds like as his eyes tear up and he gasps for air.

He’s not sure how much time has passed since Nebula left. A few minutes maybe.

He wasn’t expecting the door to his workshop to chime, the soft bell nearly startling him out of his skin. His knee jerk response is to hold his breath and hope nobody heard him losing his shit.

There are quiet footsteps that get louder until Natasha steps around his work desk and sees him on the floor and he lets out the breath he’s been holding.

“Oh Tony,” she murmurs, kneeling down to look at him, “What are we going to do with you?”

“I have a few ideas,” he says like he isn’t shaking and sweating and running out of air, “I hear there’s still a black market for organ donors. I’m sure somebody would love to have Tony Stark’s liver.”

There’s a tremor in his voice and Natasha makes a face.

“Based on your previous lifestyle, I don’t think anybody should have your liver.”

“That’s fair,” he says, trying to look casual while wiping tears from his eyes with an unsteady hand. She sighs and moves to sit beside him, her back against the work table, her legs stretched out in front of her.

“Would it help if I told you to breathe?” she asks, her smile wry and knowing.

“No, it usually goes away eventually,” he says and she nods.

“Do you mind if I sit here until then?” she asks and there is an astonishing lack of judgement when he turns to look at her.

“You probably have something better to do right now,” he says, looking away again.

“As it happens, I have absolutely nothing to do right now,” she tells him and he can’t look at her for a moment, afraid the tears might come again.

“Okay,” he says, nodding and staring at a section of the wall as though it’s the most fascinating thing ever.

“Okay,” she replies and settles her head back against one of the legs of the desk, her hands folded in her lap.

\---

From the hall, Nebula listens to the ragged exchange. Romanoff passed her in the hall before entering the workshop. She paused for only a moment, brows raised, mouth slightly agape, before she turned and headed down into the workshop.

A few moments after Romanoff went downstairs, Steve Rogers appears at the top of the stairway. He freezes at the sight of her but she just turns her head and ignores him, listening to the exchange below.

_“What are we going to do with you?”_

_“I have a few ideas. I hear there’s still a black market for organ donors.”_

As they continue talking downstairs, Rogers climbs down the steps, stopping beside Nebula. Fortunately he remains silent so she continues to ignore him.

Romanoff asks to sit with Stark and after some more back and forth he agrees. Meanwhile she can feel Steve Rogers staring at her.

The quiet that follows that last exchange below stretches on and on, but slowly, she can hear Stark’s breathing grow calm and quiet.

When she feels certain the Terran is no longer in immediate peril, she turns and walks back upstairs. For some reason, Rogers follows her.

Once they’ve left the stairwell behind she glares up at the man.

“What do you want?” she asks and his response is almost uneasy. He shoves his hands into his pockets and looks down at the floor.

“Sorry,” he says with a shrug of his big shoulders, “I was just wondering, were you the one that asked Friday to call Nat down?”

“Does it matter?” she asks, because she does not know this man very well or what his intentions are. She will not explain herself to a stranger when her reasons are her own.

At her words, Rogers just nods, eyes cast down at the floor again.

“I just wanted to say thanks for looking out for him,” he says and she blinks.

None of these Terrans ever act like she expects them too. It annoys her deeply.

“Why?” she asks and he sighs.

“Not that long ago, this team’s wellbeing was my responsibility. Then Tony and I had a falling out and…” she watches his gaze drift back towards the stairway they just left.

“Since then I’ve fallen short,” he says softly, his gaze turning long and distant.

She’s about to ask him what this has to do with her anyway when his eyes snap back to her and he says, “I’m just glad he’s got people looking out for him, that’s all.”

With that he just nods before turning on his heel and heading down the hall, “I’m going to see how Banner’s doing,” he says with one hand lifted in something like a wave.

Then Nebula is left alone in the hall, caught between aggravation, perplexity, and something else that might be warm and soft.

Something that should probably be stamped out before it’s too late.

\---

Peter has no idea how long he’s been walking or how much time has passed. The only way to mark the passage of time and distance is to glance back at his footprints in the sand, although even those seem to fade away before they are out of sight. Like it’s impossible to make a mark on this landscape.

Occasionally he calls out again and here’s the faintest cry in response, that is his only sense of direction in this copper and orange place. It’s like the weirdest game of Marco Polo he’s ever played in his life.

After walking for awhile, Peter notices he’s not thirsty, or hungry. He definitely hasn’t had to go to the bathroom. He isn’t getting tired or sweating.

The only sensation he has is of a slight chill and the ache in his feet as they sink into the sand beneath his feet with every step.

All of that’s probably meaningful somehow but he has no idea _how._

An eternity passes before he thinks he can see a speck of something on the horizon.

With no idea who or what it could be, he takes off running. The relief of finding something, _anything_ at all temporarily overrides his sense of self preservation.

He keeps running and it feels almost like he’s running in place.

The speck doesn’t seem to get any bigger.

He only runs faster, kicking up sand, his chest puffing from the exertion.

 _“Hey, is somebody there?”_ he calls out, waving his hands in the air like a lunatic.

But the speck still doesn’t seem to get any bigger.

Finally he stops, putting his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

He wonders if whatever he’s seeing is a figment of his imagination.

Then he hears that voice call back, _“Hello?”_

And he straightens again, staring out and suddenly the speck _moves._

Like it’s approaching _him._

He starts walking again, not running, but walking. Only now does it occur to him that whatever he’s running towards could be dangerous.

Of course, the alternative is walking through what feels like an orange void so he doesn’t turn back either.

Finally the figure is close enough that he can start to make out details. They appear to be some sort of green skinned alien. He would guess she’s a woman, of course he might be wrong, she is a literal green skinned alien so what does he know? Her hair is dark, tinted pink at the ends, and it falls past her shoulders in waves.

The thing he notices the most though is the powerful sadness in her eyes as they close the distance between them and stand there, staring at each other.

“You’re just a boy,” she says quietly, looking him up and down. She doesn’t seem the least bit fazed by the fact that he’s wearing a red and blue suit of spider armor.

“I’m not a _boy,”_ he says, a knee jerk reaction because something about her tone reminds him of the way Tony Stark had tried to send him home when that spaceship took off.

Although in retrospect, maybe Tony had been right to try and send him back.

The woman smiles a little and shakes her head.

“I am only sad to see one who was taken so early in life,” she says and that sadness in her eyes seems to grow.

“Although if Thanos achieved his goal, there will be many children here,” she adds, looking around them with knowing eyes, “Perhaps there already are.”

Peter doesn’t know what to say to that. He has to swallow hard and turn away for a moment.

 _Thanos won,_ he realizes. It had happened so suddenly on Titan, Peter hadn’t had time to consider the cause but _of course_ that was what happened.

His eyes sting as he wonders about Aunt May or Ned or MJ.

“So we really are dead?” he asks, his voice cracked and strained. The woman’s gaze is sympathetic as she says, “I believe we are, or near enough to it.”

And Peter nods, rubbing any moisture from his eyes with reckless hands. He wonders if everyone back home is still alive and if they miss him. If Aunt May is alone now and the thought of that in itself makes him want to curl up and sob like an infant.

He wonders if Tony is okay, remembering the feeling of the man’s hands gripping him by the arms like that alone could keep Peter in the land of the living. He remembers the look of horror in Tony’s eyes as Peter felt himself crumble into nothing.

The woman is watching him as he sniffs and wipes at his eyes again.

“You’re Terran aren’t you?” she asks him.

“What?” he looks up at her, “What’s a Terran?”

“You’re from Earth,” she amends.

“Oh, yeah,” he says nodding his head, “Very much from Earth...You’re not.”

He points at her, saying that last part without thinking, and then freezes. Maybe she is from Earth? Maybe she’s the Hulk’s _sister_ and he was just _really rude?_

She just chuckles and shakes her head, “No I’m not from Earth.”

“Cool, I met some other aliens recently and they were nice,” he says lamely, wishing for the millionth time in his life that he had a better filter.

“So, what’s your name then?” The woman asks, still looking faintly amused.

“Peter,” he says and something in her eyes seems to flash at the name, he just swallows and barrels onward, “My name’s Peter Parker, what’s yours?”

“Gamora,” she says and Peter gapes.

 _“Your Gamora?”_ he exclaims and she frowns at him.

“Yes?” she says slowly, “Why is this surprising?”

Peter swallows thinking, _holy shit,_ and that he is definitely probably dead if she’s here and remembering a conversation of ‘who, what, where, and _why_ Gamora?’

“Um...I think I met some friends of yours,” he says slowly watching the way her gaze seems to sharpen onto him.

It seems they will have quite a lot to talk about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not mean for this to turn into the Tony has a panic attack chapter. I kept rewriting every scene and this is what it turned into(Tony you travesty you can't panic at the sight of teenagers that way madness lies). Also Steve is trying his best and Nat has her shit Together y'all. I also didn't mean for her to become the team therapist but she just DID.  
> Also I am not going to lie, I think Gamora and Peter interacting will be only The Most wholesome content because Gamora has always been the responsible mom of the guardians and Peter is a child.  
> Anywho I am basically fully recovered from the tonsils now but this is one of two WIPs I have at the moment so I'm probably not going to be updating every two days like before.  
> By now everybody's probably seen/read those interviews with the Russo brothers where they said everybody who got dusted is in the soul stone and probably Gamora too? So like...this is not some super smart plot decision, I'm just cribbing some IW part 2 details.


	6. Thoughts and Memories

When Natasha comes upstairs from Tony’s workshop, she finds Nebula sitting a few feet away at the bottom of the main staircase, her chin propped on her hand. As Natasha steps around the corner, Nebula’s eyes flick to her and then away again.

“You can go back downstairs now,” Natasha offers, “He’s fine, he’s just gone back to working on things.”

Nebula’s eyes slide over to lock onto Nat again.

“No,” she says, flat and unremarkable. Almost like she’s bored by this conversation.

It’s a convincing enough facade, except for the fact Natasha saw her hovering outside the workshop when she came downstairs.

She’s about to say something to that point when Friday chimes in, “Ms. Romanoff, I’ve found the status of the individuals you requested. Would you like to hear it now?”

Nebula looks up at the ceiling and then back at Natasha, who sighs. She has a feeling that it’s going to be some kind of bad news.

“Yes, Friday,” she says.

“Kamala Khan appears to have survived the event,” Friday says and it’s still strange that, _that’s_ what news outlets have taken to calling it. _The Event._

“Although it appears her brother and mother died, her father and sister-in-law survived.”

Nat bows her head thinking about another child with a family broken by Thanos.

“Thank you Friday,” she says quietly and she can feel Nebula watching her as she reaches out to rest a hand on the banister. For just a moment, she needs some support.

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

When her lungs are empty she lifts up her head and smiles at Nebula hoping to communicate that it’s fine, she’s fine, everybody is _fine._

Then she heads upstairs without a word, feeling Nebula’s eyes drilling holes in her back.

\---

Nebula sits and watches the evening fall.

Who knew the aftermath of the apocalypse could be boring? She’s _bored._

There’s nothing for her to do here.

She would go down to Stark’s workshop but she really doesn’t want to have another talk about feelings today.

So she gets up and wanders through the cavernous halls to the backyard where her crashed shuttle still sits.

She’s not at all surprised to find Rocket sitting in the shuttle yanking wires from the walls for whatever contraption is currently blinking in his paws.

He glances up when she enters the shuttle but then goes back to the panel he’s dismantling.

“Why didn’t you take Quill’s ship?” he asks, sounding exhausted and deeply aggrieved, “This shuttle is crap and the other one had all my stuff on it.”

Nebula settles into the pilot’s chair, leaning her head against the wall and hooking her legs over the arm of the seat.

“I didn’t consider it at the time,” she says and that’s mostly true. She had a dying Terran to contend with and she knew where she had parked her own shuttle. Perhaps she had considered Quill and Gamora’s ship, assuming it was nearby. Yet a place so full of her sister’s spirit might have been scalding.

She does and does not regret the choice.

Rocket just looks at her for a long and considering moment, before he sniffs and ducks his head to continue fiddling with whatever he’s building.

Knowing the rodent, it’s probably a bomb.

“I uh...have one of Gamora’s knives,” Rocket says, conversational and casual in the silence. Nebula sits up straight in her seat and stares. The rodent just shrugs, “I steal shit. It’s kind of my thing? She knew about it and just...let me keep it I guess…” he glances at her again, shoulder still hitched like he’s expecting a hit as he says, “You can have it...if you want it.”

She swallows hard past what feels like a lump in her throat.

She hates how much she feels at the thought of one stupid knife. It will not bring her sister back from the dead.

She still pulls her legs off the arm of her seat, folding them beneath her to sit up straight, facing the rodent. She nods slowly and Rocket goes rummaging through his pack.

It takes an almost worrisome amount of time for him to find it. Enough time that she really does wonder what else he might have in there and decides she would rather not know. When he does pull out a small dagger, still in its sheath, he holds it out to her without looking at her. His nose stays buried in his pack as the one arm remains stretched out towards her.

She takes the knife carefully, unsheathing it just enough to see the swirling patterns engraved in the blade itself. She recognizes it from their many fights, holding it tight in both hands and blinking until her eyes stop stinging.

“Thank you,” she finally murmurs because it seems appropriate to say, even if she doesn’t like saying it. She has something of her sister to hang on to and for some inexplicable reason, that helps the ache in her chest. Rocket looks at her and then at his pack.

“Your welcome,” he says, looking up at her again, small arms folding over his chest, “This is awkward.”  

“It is,” she agrees, because she never thought she would be having a heart to heart with Gamora’s rodent friend. And yet they are all that’s left. After a moment of mutual silence, Rocket turns back to his pack.

“Do you mind if I play music?” he asks, pulling out Quill’s audio device.

“I thought it would be funny to steal his Zune before he left for Knowhere,” he says and she nods because of course he did.

She wants to ask what happened to the little tree. Even though she already knows by his absence.

Instead she leans back in her seat as Rocket fiddles with the wiring in that panel until suddenly a man’s voice croons softly through the speakers,

“ _And when the brokenhearted people_

_Living in the world agree_

_There will be an answer_

_Let it be, let it be.”_

Rocket slowly nods his head as he goes back to fiddling with his device while Nebula leans her head back and closes her eyes. She can picture Gamora beside her, quietly bobbing her head to the beat. If she tries, she can imagine them all. Quill singing along, Drax sitting still, considering the lyrics far too seriously while Mantis would stare with her wide, wondering eyes. And that little tree. He would be dancing.

She likes to imagine them all on their ship. Alive and whole.

So she does like the man in the song suggests. She keeps her eyes closed and lets the images play against her eyelids.

She lets it be.

\--

Harley wanders through the cavernous halls of this weird and enormous compound.

Everyone here seems much quieter than he was expecting from a bunch of superheroes.

(To be fair Tony Stark shattered his expectations for most superheroes when he was eleven so…)

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting honestly.

He had been walking home from school when it happened.

A man crossing the street suddenly froze, one foot still hovering above the asphalt.

And then he turned to dust.

And then so did the kid playing in the gas station.

And a car driving down the street suddenly swerved and crashed. It was empty.

Harley didn’t know what was happening but he just knew he had to get home.

He took off running as the wails of people either dying or still living started to rise up like a wave crashing into his eardrums. He could hear sirens and screaming and he just kept running until he reached his house. He practically slammed into the front door, fumbling with his keys.

His mom would be okay, he thought frantically. He would run upstairs and find her asleep, because she’s been working nights again.

When he finally managed to wrench the door open he raced up the stairs shouting, _“Mom wake up, mom are you there?”_

She wasn’t there. The bed was empty and when he threw back the sheet, a cloud of dust filled the air.

And for a moment it felt like time stopped.

The sun streamed in through the window and he could see the individual particles, while knowing with a sickening clarity that this was all that was left of his mother.

It was then that he remembered the time he helped Tony Stark fix his Iron Man suit.

Tony Stark, The Avenger.

Surely they would be out there, _right now,_ trying to fix this.

He wanted to fix this.

He _had_ to fix this.

They would be fixing it and he would help.

That was the thought that kept him company over the next week or so of walking and hitchhiking from Tennessee to upstate New York.

That was the thought that brought Harley to the Avengers’ doorstep.

Except right now The Avengers don’t seem to be fixing much of anything.

At the moment it’s after 10pm and he’s wondering the halls with some direction from the AI that Captain _“Call-Me-Steve”_ America said was called Friday.

“So what’s on this floor?” He asks pushing a random button on the elevator.

“The 12th floor contains several research labs and facilities,” the AI chirped in a cheerfully incongruous Irish accent, “You may not go there, unaccompanied.”

Harley blew air out the side of his mouth.

“Well what is there to _do_ here?” he asks.

“Your room has access to over 1,000 cable channels and Tony Stark’s movie library. There is a gym on the fourth floor and a swimming pool on the third floor. There is also a fully stocked kitchen on the ground floor.”

The AI rattles all this off while Harley chews the inside of his cheek and idly wonders why the hell he even came here. He met Tony years ago, spent maybe a day and a half being mostly talked through how to fix the guy’s suit. He really doesn’t know what he was expecting from this honestly.

He sighs again, considering his options and then pressing the button for the fourth floor.

\---

Clint Barton has been trying hard for the last few days (weeks?) to just try not to think.

He’s the dumbass who shoots arrows, when the others figure out what they want to do they’ll point him in the right direction but until then he’s got nothing to occupy himself other than emptying his quiver into the targets at the gym over and over again.

He won’t think about that day.

They were all together in the family room. The kids were playing some game he wasn’t really following while Laura was changing a lightbulb in the kitchen.

She walked into the room holding the old bulb triumphantly (He had said she wouldn’t be able to reach it) and then she stopped.

And then the children stopped.

And then they were gone.

He stood alone in an empty room. Shock turned to horror and horror turned to rage.

If they are able to bring his family back, Laura is going to skin him alive for wrecking the place like he did.

_If._

Sometimes he even shuts off his hearing aid because he’s always preferred the quiet. Now more than ever. That’s the main reason he hasn’t been talking either. He just prefers the quiet.

The other day Tony wandered into the kitchen and with no warning, began hammering him with questions.  “What is this, a vow of silence? Are you a monk now? Are there any other vows I need to know about?”

The questions went on like that until Clint took his beer and left.

He has nothing against Tony beyond that time the man put him in a cell, but he will never be in the mood to chat about this.

Of course Nat keeps bugging him about it.

She bugs him in general.

About talking and eating and sleeping and doing something other than shooting at targets.

He knows why of course, but sometimes he just wants to be left alone and in silence.

At the precise moment he thinks that, the kid shows up.

Earlier Clint had been here in the gym with Rhodey when the kid ended up at their door. The other guy took off like he heard something and Clint just followed him. It took him a few minutes to find the switch for the damned hearing aid once they reached the top of the stairs to the main hall and by then Nat was taking a phone call while this kid stood in the doorway looking small and confused. Clint watched Steve lead the kid away with a calm and genial introduction while Tony looked on with a distinctly panicked edge.

And now the kid’s in the gym, staring at him with mild curiosity. He’s gangly, probably 15 or so, with sandy hair hanging in his eyes as he digs his hands into his pockets.

 _“You’re Hawkeye aren’t you?”_ the kid asks, or at least Clint is mostly sure he just asked that based on the way his mouth moved.

And Clint resolutely does not think about Cooper or Nathaniel or Lila.

He doesn’t think about the looks of confusion and fear on their faces in the moments before they turned to dust.

The kid is still staring at him, clearly hesitant, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Clint swallows hard past vocal chords that surely creak with disuse, “Hang on,” he mutters.

Pulling the hearing aid out to find the switch is easier than trying to feel for it. Stark insisted this would be better than his old one, but just because it’s sleeker doesn’t mean it’s easier to use.

The kid just watches him as he flicks the little switch and plugs the device back into his ear.

With the hearing aid back in he looks at the kid,

“You asked if I’m Hawkeye?” he repeats, knowing that sounds rude or angry or something and the kid nods uncertainly.

“Technically yes,” he says with a shrug before turning back to his targets.

When it comes to the status of him being Hawkeye he’s pretty sure Kate Bishop would beg to disagree.

(He’s pretty sure she’s dead too, he’s just been too afraid to ask Friday to confirm it.)

With the hearing aid on, he can hear the kid’s quiet steps drifting closer to where Clint is firing off arrow after arrow in quick succession.

He only stops to glance back and make sure the kid isn’t near his line of fire.

These are practice arrows, but people can still get injured with blunt objects, Clint would know. He pauses in his shooting to glance back and make sure the kid hasn’t accidentally walked somewhere stupid. Instead, he finds the kid a few feet behind him, eyes wide and staring.

Hawkeye has to swallow hard past disused vocal chords before asking, “You got a question?”

The kid just opens his mouth and shuts it, shaking his head sullenly.

He starts to turn away and Clint sighs, biting the inside of his cheek. He wouldn’t talk to his kids this way. He shouldn’t snap at this one just because he’s nearby and reminding Clint of what’s gone.

“Hey,” he says, “I didn’t catch your name.”

The kid looks at him warily before saying, “Harley.”

The name almost makes him smile. Nathaniel was really into anything on wheels, his favorite toy was a little plastic harley motorbike. He would have flipped to meet a kid named after his favorite toy.

“Cool name,” he says with a nod and slowly the kid nods back.

Neither of them move or do anything at all for a moment and it’s been awhile since Clint has bothered with smalltalk but he tries, “Did you just wander in here or were you hoping to…” he trails off and Harley shrugs, glancing around the room.

“The AI said there was a track here,” he mutters with a shrug, “It was better than sitting in my room.”

Clint nods, “Well the track is back that way if you’re still interested,” he says pointing over Harley’s shoulder. Past the boxing ring there is a small running track, he’s run some laps on there in the past few days.

The kid glances back at where he pointed with a small nod and another shrug. He’s still eying the bow in Clint’s other hand with a curiosity Clint recognizes all too well.

The kids were always more than a little curious when they saw him practicing with his weapon of choice. And he had been practicing, even after his “retirement.”

He had been right to suspect that the trouble was not yet done.

They would come and ask questions. He even let Lila hold the bow once or twice. She was the oldest so it seemed right but Laura didn’t like him teaching the kids that sort of thing.

Now, he slings his quiver of arrows off of his shoulder and holds out the bow towards the kid, “Did you want to give this a try?”

The kid’s eyes go a little rounder as he looks up at Clint and back at the bow.

“Um...yeah,” he says.

Later when Nat pokes her head into the gym she will find them crowded around Harley’s practice target as Clint gives him tips on the best way to hold a bow.

Clint will look up to see her standing in the doorway with a smile on her face and they will merely share a look before she shakes her head and slinks out of sight leaving him and the kid as they were.

\---

The next morning there’s a knock on the door.

“Natasha,” Friday chimes from the overhead speaker in her room, “There is a Carol Danvers knocking on the door, should I let her in?”

Natasha blearily opens her eyes.

“What?”

“There is a Carol Danvers knocking on the door, should I let her in?”

Natasha blinks, once, twice, and then says, “Yes.”

By the time she gets downstairs she sees a blonde woman cross the threshold eying the high ceilings with mild curiosity. The woman’s hair is short, buzzed close to the scalp except on top where it climbs up in spikes. She’s wearing simple jeans and a T-shirt. No logo emblazoned across her chest.

She looks up at the sound of Natasha’s approach and grins.

“You must be Nat, I’m Carol.”

\---

In a sunset colored world Peter Parker sits across from a green woman named Gamora.

“Mantis and Drax went first,” he said quietly and his words seem to pierce her to the core, “They just turned to _dust_ … and then Quill…”

She puts a hand over her mouth but doesn’t make a sound.

“And I could _feel_ it happening and I just...I got scared and then...I was here.”

She drops her hand and stares at him, her expression caught between heartbreak and something else. She looks around them at the empty vastness stretching away from them in every direction and whispers, “Then they must be here,” with a tremor in her voice.

She looks back at him, her eyes sharp, “If this is where you ended up, they must be here too…”

“How would we even find them?” Peter asks, looking around at all the emptiness.

“How indeed?” A new voice asks and both of them turn to see a man in a red cape and blue tunic approaching.  The one Tony called a wizard. The one who called himself Dr. Strange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this chapter took forever. I'm moving, working a 9 to 5, and a freelance gig and I'm very tired. I don't even know what this chapter is anymore I did my best.
> 
> And for this chapter, I think the mechanism I described for Hawkeye’s hearing aid might be a little fictional? I’m imagining some kind of future tech that’s between a regular hearing aid and a cochlear implant but I don’t know much about either so forgive any liberties taken there. Also playing fast and loose with the ages of Hawkeyes kids altho I did check wikipedia for their names.
> 
> And yes Peter's Zune had Let it Be by the Beatles on there, I believe that's the same era as most of his other tunes and also it's a good song and thematically appropriate? I also considered Eleanor Rigby.
> 
> Anyway I will hopefully find the plot eventually but IRL life is going to remain super busy and hectic until mid August so sorry for the slow updates right now.


	7. Many Meetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all I'M BACK. Thank you for your patience. This chapter could have been longer but I'm still getting back in the swing of this story and these scenes were hard so have a shorter chapter and know I'm BACK.

James Buchanan Barnes has been walking alone through a vast orange landscape for an immeasurable amount of time. 

Maybe days.

Wherever he is now he doesn’t seem to get hungry or tired so he just keeps walking.

He’s not sure what he’s hoping to find but it’s better than just sitting around and waiting for something to happen.

Especially because sitting around is what makes Bucky insane.

Shuri had fixed him, as far as such things went.

When he was finally woken up from cryosleep to see a young, dark skinned girl watching him with gentle eyes...that was unexpected.

“I was able to remove the Hydra programming from your mind,” she said without preamble, “But I cannot do anything for the memories. You will have to carry those.”

She then added that she also made him a better prosthetic and launched into a long ramble about all of the features of his new “kickass arm”

He is grateful to that girl for everything she did.

He is grateful to no longer be a tool that can be switched on and off with a few words.

That doesn’t help with the images that play against his eyelids whenever he closes his eyes.

Wakanda was a beautiful place and spending time on its lands doing nothing but being useful was healing.

But the memories of fifty years under Hydra’s thumb still weighs heavy on his chest.

Even more so when he saw Steve again.

Steve...looking rough and tired, but still managing that big smile as he clapped Bucky on the shoulder.

Steve’s face as Bucky felt himself disintegrate into nothing.

Bucky has died before. 

Every time they strapped him into that chair and erased him it felt like a death.

But this death was different. It didn’t even hurt it just felt like... _ nothing. _

Like being swallowed up by nothing.

And if he thinks too much about that feeling of nothing, or of Steve’s face when he called his name, more out of confusion than distress...If he thinks about the sensation of being erased from existence…

He’ll go insane.

So Bucky walks and walks and walks.

It’s quite a lot of walking before he considers what he’s walking towards.

Or what he’s looking for, if anything at all.

Was he the only one?

He doesn’t think so, although he has no evidence to support that particular feeling in his gut.

So he decides he will try and find any others that might be trapped in this auburn colored purgatory he’s stuck in.

And it takes quite a lot more walking before he does find somebody.

Three figures standing in the far, far distance.

Their voices faintly echo to where he stands, thanks to his advanced hearing.

“We’re inside the soul stone,” says an older imperious voice, the taller of the three figures. There is one of a middle height who looks faintly green from his vantage point, and a smaller one wearing something that shines red and blue.

“The soul stone?” asks a younger voice, “Oh, you mean those gem things in the gauntlet.” 

_ That’s the smaller one,  _ Bucky thinks.

“Yes. I would be willing to guess that everyone who died from the gauntlet is inside the soul stone somewhere,” the older one adds.

“But I didn’t die from the gauntlet,” the green one adds and the other two turn to look at her(From the pitch of the voice, he would guess the green one is a woman and the other two are men)

As Bucky gets closer he can make out further details. The green one has dark hair shading into pink. The smaller one has a shock of brown hair and the tall one looks to be wearing a  _ cape _ .

As he observes this the tall one looks directly at him. Even from this distance he can see the way his head turns to face Bucky.

“Someone’s coming,” he says quietly and the other two turn to follow his gaze, looking at Bucky.

_ “Hey, who’s there?”  _ The small one calls out, waving his hand in the air.

The taller one smacks him on the shoulder, “Shut up,” he says quietly, “Half of the universe just got pulled into this stone, not everyone will be friendly.”

And the boy quiets down.

Bucky lifts a cautious hand in response.

Because they would be smart to be wary, especially of him, but...

_ “My name is James Barnes,”  _ he calls out and the tall one seems to tilt his head a little at the name.

He’s getting close enough to make out the man’s goatee and just how young the boy is. Also the woman must be some sort of alien, she really is green all over. 

Then again he met a talking raccoon earlier and he’s long since run out of surprise for all the oddities in the world.

And they must be able to see him just as well. The tall man in the cape narrows his eyes at Bucky.

“You’re the Winter Soldier,” he says and it’s not phrased as a question.

Still, Bucky stops walking a stone’s throws distance from them and says, “No. Not anymore.”

The kid’s eyes widen at him.

_ “Hey I know you,”  _ he exclaims, pointing a far too young and excitable hand at Bucky, “You’re the dude with the metal arm! Mr. Stark wanted to stop you in Berlin!”

And Bucky stares at him, appalled.

He had known that the spider kid had to be young by the sounds of him. He held back in that fight for that very reason.

But  _ Jesus  _ has this kid even hit puberty yet?

And this kid is dead along with the rest of them. A small tragedy wrapped in a much larger one. There are probably many dead children in this place.

To the kid’s exclamations he slowly nods his head.

The green woman raises her brows at him.

“Oh right,” the man in the cape says, more to himself than to them, “Stark and Rogers had that little disagreement last year.” Bucky ignores both of them and looks at the kid.

“Sorry you were in the middle of that,” he says and the kid just shrugs.

“Honestly it was really cool. I got to tell my best friend Ned that I stole Captain America’s shield,” he says all this very matter-of-factly and Bucky just stares.

“Oh...okay…” he says slowly and the kid grins up at him, only slightly subdued from his previous enthusiasm.

“Don’t worry about it, I was just there to help out Mr. Stark. We’re good,” the kid waves a hand between them and then pauses with a frown.

“Is Winter Soldier your superhero name? Because Mr. Soldier would be a weird thing to call you,” the kid says and a glance at the other two finds the woman biting back what looks like laughter and the man in the cape rolling his eyes.

“Call me Bucky, please,” he tells the kid and the other two as well.

“I’m Gamora,” the woman says gesturing to herself, “And this man is called ‘Dr. Strange.’”

He can practically hear the quotations and the man scoffs.

“Dr. Strange  _ is  _ my real name,” he says sounding deeply tired.

“Really though?” the kid asks and the man sighs again.

Bucky ignores this to look at the doctor, “You seemed to know a lot about where we are,” he says. Another statement, not a question.

The man nods, “I swore an oath to protect the time stone. There was some knowledge passed down about the other Infinity Stones,” he looks sidelong at Bucky and shrugs.

“I made an informed hypoythesis.”

The kid goggles at them and the green woman sighs.

Clearly he hasn’t found much in the way of help. Just more people.

\---

Carol Danvers crosses the threshold to the Avengers Facility, and even after their phone conversation she imagined something a little more grand than a tired looking redhead coming down the stairs.

Still, she grins up at the woman she spoke to on the phone.

“You must be Nat, I’m Carol.”

She sticks out her hand as Natasha approaches and the woman shakes it with the same level of enthusiasm as she seems to be doing everything, which is less than much.

“You should probably meet everybody,” Nat says, like a sigh and Carol raises her brows.

Because she just got here and there’s shit to do but also  _ jesus. _

“You need a drink,” she says pointing at the other woman, “In fact I think you need  _ several.” _

Nat just smirks, with the faintest curve at the edge of her mouth, “It would take quite a lot of alcohol to get me drunk.”

“Good,” Carol replies, “Let’s go find some.”

And Nat stares at her then, before rolling her eyes up to the ceiling and down the hall. It’s a hefty eye roll. It looks like it took effort.

“There’s plenty to drink here,” she says, still faintly amused and deeply tired.

Carol follows her gaze up at that tall, tall ceiling and down the long hall.

“Yeah, but I bet you need a break from here don’t you,” she says and it isn’t really a question. Natasha thinks about it for a moment. Carol can see the thoughts warring on her brow.

Finally she says, “Okay, but I’m driving.”

“Are you kidding?” Carol asked, “I’ll fly us there.”

\---

Tony pokes his head out from the workshop. Technically from the stairs leading to his workshop where it connects to the main hall and the front door which just slammed shut.

“Um Friday?” He asks, “Who was that?”

He had heard voices floating down the hall. Natasha’s and an unfamiliar voice and he hadn’t really come out of his work brain until the voices stopped long enough for him to wonder what was going on.

“That was Natasha Romanoff and Carol Danvers, the woman who contacted Natasha approximately thirty-two hours ago.”

Tony pauses, giving that some thought.

“Did she go...on purpose?” he asks, because he doesn’t know this Carol woman and nothing seems to go right anymore and he’s a little bit worried Natasha might have just gotten kidnapped.

“She went of her own volition Mr. Stark,” Friday says cheerily and without judgment because she is a good AI who gives him the minimum amount of snark. Unlike  _ some  _ AIs that got turned into almost persons and then died.

He should go back to his workshop and try something other than thinking.

He should take off the engagement ring he’s still wearing because the woman he’s engaged to is dead.

“Mr. Stark?” It’s Harley.  _ Of course it’s Harley. _

He can’t keep avoiding this. It isn’t fair to the kid.

“Yeah?” he asks, looking over to see the kid eyeing him with something like wariness.

Like he expects Tony to run at the sight of him.

Which is fair, honestly.

“Um,” the kid says, because he probably didn’t think this conversation through and Tony knows what that feels like.

“C’mon,” he says, jerking his head to the side, towards the staircase leading down to his workshop, “You wanna talk? Let’s do it somewhere with chairs.”

The kid nods and follows him down to the workshop.

As soon as they're inside, Tony settles on his stool and the kid shoots him a funny look before flopping down on the couch.

“So what is it?” he asks. It’s not the nicest way to phrase it but it gets the job done.

The kid looks away from him with a squint before asking, “Are you still freaked out about New York?”

Not what he was expecting.

“No, the reason I was freaking out about New York basically happened, now I’m just…” he trails off, aimlessly lifting a hand from his lap and letting it drop again because really Tony has no fucking idea what he’s doing.

And the kid shoots him another keen look. 

“You lost people?” he asks and Tony snorts without any humor.

“Everybody lost people, half the universe died.”

“But  _ you  _ lost people,” Harley repeats, pointing an almost accusatory finger at him.

Tony shrugs, “So what if I did?”

Harley shakes his head, “I’m just trying to figure out why you look like you’re having a panic attack every time I walk into a room,” he sighs, “Like I’m wondering is it me? Or are you freaking out  _ all the time  _ and I just keep walking in at those parts.”

Why couldn’t this kid have grown up stupid? Tony wonders miserably. 

It would have been much easier.

“It’s not  _ just  _ you,” Tony says slowly, “A lot of shit has gone down and you may recall I don’t cope with shit  _ well.” _

And Harley stares at him, “So some of it is me,” he says, angry and disbelieving by halves.

“Sort of,” Tony says and the kid shoots him another look full of furrowed brows and a mouth that looks ready to object.

Tony runs a hand through his hair and exhales through his nose before looking back at Harley.

“Did you see that Spider Boy on the news or whatever?” He asks and Harley nods.

“They showed footage of the two of you fighting the aliens in the park when you went missing. They had a lot to say about it.”

Tony winces at the thought of what pundits might have to say about him and the kid.

...The kid…

He tries to summon up the words to explain and again, Harley beats him to it.

“He’s dead isn’t he? The spider guy?”

It would have been so much easier if he was stupid.

Tony just nods his head mutely and runs another hand through his hair.

“The kid was my responsibility. He had powers, I built him a suit when I  _ really  _ shouldn’t have. Point is, he was there because of me and he died because of me and…”

“And what does that have to do with me?” Harley asks, mouth tight and arms folded.

Tony groans and scrubs at his scalp again with both hands before looking up and responding:

“Everything near me dies.”

There’s no sugarcoating this. He can’t help that his life is this bleak and Harley stares at him as he continues, “Everything near me  _ always  _ dies and you’re just a kid. You should get out while you still can.”

Harley grits his teeth, “I just want to  _ help,”  _ he says and Tony has to look away for a moment before answering, “So did he.”

“Well cool, but I’m not him. My mom is dead and I want the guy who did it to pay so I want to  _ help.” _

Tony shakes his head,  _ “Kid--” _

_ “I’m not a kid,”  _ Harley all but shouts and Tony glares at him.

“But you  _ are.  _ You’re what fifteen? You should be in school, not standing next to a time bomb.”

Harley glares at him, his mouth in a hard line.

“I know you want to help,” Tony says, his hands out and flat, “But if you haven't noticed...we have less than half of a real plan and we’re a mess. _ ” _

Harley looks at him and then the contents of his work bench which is currently a tangle of three different projects.

“What's that?” He asks, getting up and walking towards it, he’s pointing towards a particular tangle of wires that might join a sensor array to detect Infinity Stone energy if he can make it work.

“Does it matter?” Tony asks, deeply exhausted as Harley ignores him and leans forward to squint down at the wires.

“The transistor’s out of alignment,” he says and without a word, he grabs a tool off the bench and sets about readjusting it before Tony’s disbelieving eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asks, even though he can see perfectly well that the kid is fixing his stupid tech. Harley shrugs, “That stuff you built was cool. Your suit? That potato launcher?” He doesn’t look up from the array and just shrugs again, “I joined a robotics club the next year and now I’m taking an engineering class.”

Tony stares and Harley glares up at him with such hostility but Tony is still stuck on the part where he didn’t ruin this kid’s life.

Maybe he  _ actually helped? _

“I’m not  _ saying  _ I want to go shoot lasers at that Thanos guy,” Harley continues, hitching up one shoulder, “But there are still things  _ I  _ can do.”

“I never said there weren’t,” Tony says faintly. It feels a little like his world won’t stop upending itself beneath his feet. At his words Harley just rolls his eyes, “Yeah you did.”

“I’m just…” Tony leans forward, scrubbing both hands through his hair. His next words are barely more than a whisper, “I’m tired of having people’s blood on my hands.”

“But you wouldn’t,” Harley says and he still sounds so angry, “Because it’s  _ my choice.” _

Tony looks up at him, open mouthed.

“And that kid who died? I bet it was his choice to be there too.”

Tony shuts his mouth tight.

Because it was Peter’s choice. And he could have died on Titan with them or back on Earth.

But he didn’t die on Earth, he died in Tony’s arms, grasping at life with desperate fingers.

Harley just sighs and picks the tangle of wires and metal off Tony’s workbench to throw it in Tony’s lap.

“Whatever, I fixed your stupid thing.”

And with that he heads for the stairs. Tony stares down at the piece in his lap.

He really did fix it.

“Wait,” he calls out and the kid stops, but doesn’t turn around, “I won’t make you leave, but I still think you should.”

“And what if I told you to go to hell?” Harley asks.

“Then there’s more stuff that needs fixing,” Tony replies and Harley turns to look at him, suspicious and wary.

But he still joins Tony at the workbench where half the shit was built slipshod on little to no sleep and all of it could be fixed up better than it is.

And they get to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, some Nebula scenes and some of Natasha and Carol drinking (Among other things)
> 
> Also all the people sure are meeting in the soul stone huh? I have some ideas of where that's going now :)


	8. Stranger and Stranger

“You know, I don’t drink before 6pm as a rule,” Natasha says, taking a sip of her third vodka tonic (light on the tonic).

“So what are you doing now?” Carol asks her, taking a deep swig of her second whiskey.

“Lapsing in judgement,” Natasha replies, dry as bone before taking another sip. Carol grins and lifts her glass up like a salute.

“Glad I could be of service.”

And silence falls while they continue to nurse their drinks.

“We should head back,” Natasha says.

“In a minute,” Carol says, flapping her hand, “What's the rush anyway?’

Natasha looks tired and bleak before blinking that look away and saying, “I worry.”

“Why?” Carol asks, “They seem capable enough based on the news footage.”

“Because this happened while I wasn’t looking," she says softly, staring into her drink, "I was so focused on beating Thanos, I didn’t see half of my friends die,” she pauses and takes another drink, “I’m worried what else might happen while I’m not looking.”

Carol nods into her own drink.

“That sucks.”

“It does.”

“You want to get drunk?”

Natasha pauses again, staring Carol down with the intensity of a sniper. The other woman remains entirely unruffled and finally Natasha shrugs, “Yeah, alright.”

\---

Nebula wakes up with a cramp in her neck from where she slept, draped against the curved walls of the shuttle.

At the entrance she can hear voices talking at a low murmur. She grimaces at the viewport to see mid afternoon light streaming in.

She _fell asleep_ in this stupid shuttle last night. And the raccoon just let her sleep?

“And she asked ‘What are you the god of again?’” A deep voice says.

She can hear a familiar cackle followed by, “And what did you say?”

“I believe you once described it as ‘shooting lightning out of my ass?’”

 _“Holy shit,”_ followed by more laughter before it trails off into silence.

She finds the one called Thor sitting next to Rocket in the shuttle’s entryway.

“Loki… In that fight, he was…”

“I know Thor, I know.”

Nebula doesn’t know what this is as the raccoon reaches up and awkwardly pats the big man’s bicep.

And at the same time she does know.

She doesn’t even know who Loki is but just in the way he speaks, _she knows._

So she announces her presence with a cough and they both turn to look at her.

“Sheesh, I thought you were gonna sleep all day,” Rocket says and the big man smiles at her.

“Come Nebula, and join us,” he pats the lip of the entryway beside him as an invitation.

She sits just inside the door to be contrary, leaning her back against the curved wall on Rocket’s side of things.

The big man turns to look at her, “Rocket was telling me that you lost your sister,” he says and Nebula glares at Rocket, who just shrugs.

“I also lost my brother to Thanos,” Thor continues, apparently oblivious to her irritation

“Thanos killed a lot of people,” Nebula says and the words stick in her throat.

“Well, it was before the uh…” Thor trails off for a moment, then he holds one hand in air and snaps.

“He killed entire civilizations before he ever found that glove,” Nebula says and this time it’s Rocket that shoots her a look, while Thor plows onward.

“I simply wanted to say, I am sorry for your loss. I only met Gamora for a brief time, but she seemed kind and honorable.”

Nebula sits up a little, “You met Gamora?”

And Thor smiles at her, a little sad, a little not.

“After Thanos destroyed my ship, along with my brother and almost all of what was left of Asgard…” he trails off, his mouth twisting in an unhappy line, “...Well Rocket, your sister, and the others found me and…” he stops, seeming to have run out of things to say. He just smiles at Nebula and shrugs, “I simply wanted to offer my condolences. My relationship with my brother was difficult and I can’t imagine having Thanos as a father was easy. You must miss her very much.”

Nebula stares at the big man for a long time, unblinking, unflinching.

“No,” she finally says and both the man and the raccoon stare at her.

“No,” Rocket repeats in disbelief.

“I don’t _miss_ her,” Nebula says with derision laden syllables, “I’m angry at her.”

For a moment neither Rocket not Thor speak. In the end, it’s the raccoon who says, “Okay, you’re gonna need to lay that one out for me.”

“She should have protected the stone and she should have known better than to throw her life away,” she almost says, _for me,_ but she can’t bring herself to say it. She looks away from them, turning to look back at the cockpit where she sat, bloody and tired beside one stupid Terran who survived the fight with her.

“What do you mean, she threw her life away?” Rocket asks, intent and on edge while Thor remains quiet, watching her keenly with mismatched eyes. She sighs through her nose and says:

“Thanos had me. He extracted information from me and then ripped me apart for fun, and then so Gamora could see it and _feel sorry for me._ And she did because she’s an idiot. Even when she knew what was at stake, she gave up the stone and he killed her,” she stops to swallow past the lump in her throat.

“It would have been smarter to let me die.”

She’s been thinking it ever since Titan. That none of this would have happened if Gamora had just let her die on Thanos’ ship.

The silence that follows that pronouncement is long and heavy, almost tangible and thick like humidity. Finally, Thor is the one who breaks it.

“I find that with family, it is often quite hard to do the smart thing.”

She looks at the man, with his blue-brown eyes and shoulders that are weighted with sadness.

“Did your brother do something stupid?” she asks and the man actually laughs. A short, sharp exhalation of amusement.

“I believe he did many stupid things in his life, I’m not sure if his final actions were stupid. But they were in an attempt to save my life, or possibly to keep the Infinity Stone he possessed from Thanos’ grasp. And _that_ is what got him killed.”

Nebula nods, “Like I said. Stupid.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Thor says, shaking his head, “It was brave, if foolhardy, and after all the years spent betraying and double-crossing, I am glad to know that he truly cared.”

Nebula has to look away again so they can’t see the shipwreck that her face must be right now. Because she screamed at Gamora for not caring, for leaving her to fend for herself when they were both still under Thanos’ thumb.

That didn’t mean she wanted her sister to die trying to keep her alive.

And yet, that hand on her cheek, that look in her eyes.

Gamora really cared and Nebula wasn’t completely sure until that moment.

She considers all this before nodding at Thor, one small incline of her chin, to say _yes,_ maybe that matters.

But she says nothing aloud and even as Thor nods back, a small smile growing larger, Rocket says:

“Man, I’m glad I don’t have siblings, it sounds like a pain in the ass.”

And that makes Thor actually laugh, reaching over to clap the raccoon too hard on the shoulder, “It is indeed, my rabbit friend.”

And with that the conversation turns to a story of once when Loki pretended to be their father, while misplacing their real father in something that Terrans call ‘a nursing home.’

Rocket talks about the time he nearly got their asses kicked when he stole some batteries.

Nebula says nothing and just listens to stories of other families.

Eventually Thor gets up from his seat saying, “I appreciate this talk my friends, now I must eat.”

“Cool, see ya,” Rocket replies and the pair of them watch the god amble his way back into the house.

\---

Thor had come for a chat, and it seemed the god was in the mood for that sort of thing lately and so Rocket sat with him and talked.

It’s not like he had anything better to do.

Before all of this had happened, Thor had told Rocket he had already lost everything.

At the time Rocket hadn’t and now he has.

It gives them something to talk about at the very least.

But then Nebula joined them.

Nebula who casually spoke of being ripped apart.

Nebula with all her cybernetic enhancements, reminding him a little too much of the labs where he grew up under a microscope and scalpel.

And maybe he feels like he owes it to her sister to keep an eye on the cyborg.

And maybe she’s all he has left at this point.

The last remnant of the family he’d managed to fall into by sheer luck and circumstance.

So he gave her the knife he stole from Gamora and let her sleep in the stupid shuttle, (Which was technically her shuttle, he was just harvesting parts from it because he was bored.)

And now he is going to ask:

“Hey, were you being, y’know _literal_ about what Thanos did to you?”

She doesn’t even look at him.

“Do I seem prone to metaphor?”

Rocket fidgets, because what the fuck does one do in this situation anyway? Nobody ever told him how to do this shit and now he just has to wing it.

“Well, you should get Stark to look at your shit,” he tells her.

“My shit,” Nebula repeats flatly.

 _“Yeah, your shit,”_ he says, irritation flaring up sharp and abrupt, “You said Thanos ripped you _apart,_ and I’m guessing he didn’t patch you up after.”

She stares at him then, and she doesn’t even blink.

“No, he didn’t.”

And now it’s Rocket’s turn to stare up at her, caught between frustration and genuine rage as he tries not to shout, _“Doesn’t it hurt?”_

Again, she does not blink, or twitch. Yet something deepens around the eyes, something aged and haunted.

“It always hurts,” she says and Rocket looks away first.

Because he’s been in pain all his life. In every spot where metal meets flesh it hurts.

Nebula looks like a complete patchwork of skin and circuits.

He can’t even imagine and he doesn’t want to.

He’s also under no obligation, there’s no reason for him to bother with this weird angry robot.

And yet he still says, “I’d offer to take a look myself but Stark clearly has better tech in that workshop of his.”

(He had tried to get into Stark’s workshop, but the Terran had some impressive security and was smart enough to not let Rocket in unsupervised)

“And some circuits in your shoulder may have started sparking while you slept,” he adds. In her sleep, she had shifted and her shoulder threw off sparks. Which was a little alarming, given the explosive he had been tinkering with.

“I kinda patched it,” he says, pointing at the spot on her left shoulder where, if she had been looking for it, she might have noticed the two wires he fused together. More for the sake of avoiding a fire hazard than anything else.

“But you should get that looked at,” he adds and the look he gets is flat and unmoving.  
He’s starting to worry if she might stab him with the knife he gave her when she says, “Okay,” and gets up from her seat.

As she walks past him, out of the ship, she pauses and says, “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he tells her before adding, “Seriously don’t.”

So she simply nods and heads into the compound without another word.

And Rocket is left wondering how he ended up in this very particular set of insane circumstances.

He’s inclined to blame it on the batteries.

\---

Nebula walks into Tony’s workshop to find him elbow to elbow with the kid, Harley.

So he got over whatever that issue was fast.

Or he’s buried it alongside the dead.

She’s not sure which but he looks up at her and actually almost smiles. Tired and worn at the edges, but a smile nonetheless.

“Hey Nebula, you should thank the shockingly good tech department of the Rose Hill, Tennessee school district,” he tells her like she’s supposed to have any idea what he’s talking about.

“Technically, it would be Mr. Kavanaugh,” the kid adds, eyes still glued to whatever bit of circuitry they’re tinkering with, “I’m pretty sure he’s the only reason we had the robotics club and stuff like that.”

Nebula nods, still not sure what they’re talking about, but choosing the path of least resistance.

Because the raccoon was right about one thing, there is no reason for her to be in pain, except for the fact that she’s been in agony for most of her life and after awhile one grows accustomed.

She’s powered through worse pain before, eventually her body heals around it’s latest breaks and bruises. If something is too broken to function she will stop and repair it as best as she can.

But she’s always been better at breaking things than fixing them.

It was easier to fight through it most of the time.

She can at least utilize Stark’s workshop and get a decent scan of her circuitry, maybe borrow a few parts.

Now Stark is looking at her expectantly, like she might match his energy or enthusiasm for some place called Tennessee.

Instead, she just stands awkwardly in the doorway and eventually Tony looks up at her with a frown.

“Everything okay?” he asks and she shifts her weight, uncertain of how to phrase her question. Especially with the child looking at her.

The silence is uncomfortable and then Tony tilts his head to one side and says, “Hey kid, would you mind going upstairs for a minute?”

The child sighs, looking between the two of them.

“Okay.”

He sets the tool in his hand back on the countertop and heads up the stairs.

Nebula waits until she can no longer hear his footsteps before looking back at Stark.

“This workshop has scanning equipment, correct?”

“Yeah, it does,” Tony replies before hesitating with a frown, “Why?”

Nebula looks down and wonders how to ask for what she needs. She wonders how to say it with as little detail as possible. She wonders how one asks for help.

“I am… Concerned there might be some issues with my circuitry. My ability to self diagnose is limited and I know you have the kind of technology for it.”

“Okay,” Tony says, drawing the word out slowly, “Did something happen?”

She glares at him, “Can you do it or not Stark?”

He holds up his hands in surrender, “Okay, okay…” he trails off, looking her up and down with a frown before calling out, “Friday, did you get all that?”

“Yes Mr. Stark,” Comes the cheerfully accented voice, “Scanning now, please hold still Miss Nebula.”

Nebula freezes, her pulse thrumming. Stark frowns at her and it might be concern. She ignores him and stares straight ahead.

“Scan complete.”

“Display it,” Stark says and her outline materializes in miniature over his desk. It shows her insides in simple white lines, circuitry and organs pushing up against each other. And then, slowly white outlines turn red like targets all over.

 _“Jesus,”_ Tony mutters, flicking his hand over one spot to zoom in and see torn circuitry digging into what looks like muscle and bone.

“How are you even standing?” He asks her with wide eyes and furrowed brows.

“I'm functioning just fine,” she says through gritted teeth and something about that makes the man shut his mouth and look away.

“Yeah, you’re functional,” he mutters, running a harried hand through his hair before looking back at her.

“Okay, so I'm not really good at this...” he gestures a hand between the two of them, “Interpersonal _stuff, but…”_

Again he hesitates, and she just watches him and waits.

“We haven’t really delved into all the shit from before Thanos, but I think uh…”

He’s standing in front of her, hands still out in mid gesture when he stops and sighs. He moves back to his desk and settles onto his stool before he looks at her, so unbelievably tired.

“So this thing,” he taps at his chest where a triangle of light is just visible through the fabric of his sweatshirt, “This powers my suits and it’s mostly for show now. I mean I could have had something installed under the skin but I thought that direct contact with the suit was better,” he says, words spilling out at an almost dizzying speed. “It’s easier to replace the cartridge this way y’know. Pepper thinks--” he pauses with a pained expression before continuing to talk at a faster clip, “Pepper _thought_ it was an eyesore, but it’s mostly for show now.”

He pauses to glance at her, as if he’s making sure that she followed that rambling statement. She nods once and he continues, “Right, well, it wasn't _always_ for show.”

Another pause and a look and Nebula’s still standing there, taut and waiting to see where this is going.

“The whole story is pretty long, but the short version is, I was standing too close to a bomb that went off, I got a chest full of shrapnel and then I got kidnapped.”

Something in her expression must have visibly shifted because he chuckles and shakes his head, “I know, it sounds crazy but that’s how it happened. A man named Yensin saved my life by putting putting a magnet in my chest and hooking it up to a car battery. That magnet kept the shrapnel from getting to my heart. I ended up building my own magnet and powering my suits with it, but it was always a tricky balance.”

His gaze turns long and there’s an odd quirk to his lips as he continues, “One wrong move and I would have died. I trusted the wrong people sometimes and I came real close to biting it more than once. One guy who I’d known my whole life actually ripped the damn thing out of my chest and left me for dead.”

He looks at her again with that odd expression in his eyes, a little hurt, a little sad, a little of something else she couldn’t identify.

“And I was _functioning_ with the arc reactor. I told myself the surgery was dangerous and I needed it for the suits but it nearly killed me dozens of times and so I got the shrapnel removed and now I’m more than just functional, I’m…” he trails off, a hand over his mouth.

She watches him closely, but he doesn’t say anything else, turning away from her, that hand still pressed to his mouth. She watches him closely as he takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes, his other hand moving to rest against the side she knows was open and bleeding not too long ago.

And she has no idea what makes her open her mouth, but she says, “I was little more than a child when Thanos wiped out my home planet and stole me away.”

He looks at her now, eyes sharper than a knife’s edge.

“Gamora had already been with him for several years by the time I arrived. She was the one who showed me the way of things. Then she was the one Thanos pitted me against over and over again. She always won so Thanos thought I needed improving,” she says quietly, one hand reaching up to touch the metal panel around her left eye without even thinking about it.

“She said that it was fear of punishment which made her win. That she didn’t think of what it would mean for me. We were just children.”

Stark barely moves, his eyes never leaving from her face.

“I was not taught about maintenance, I was only taught how to fight. I’ve managed over the years but…” she trails off and shrugs, “Some of those marks are probably as old as I am.”

Tony looks away from her then, one hand smoothing away a grimace.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying, but I had guessed a little of that,” he says, looking sidelong at her, “Just based on the visuals,” he turns back to wave a hand at her, “It doesn’t look like a lot of careful planning went into what they slapped on you.”

Nebula considers that for a moment, “No, there wasn’t.”

Something about that makes him laugh without humor, in one short, sharp exhalation.

“Well then, shouldn’t we, I don’t know, fix it?” he asks and picks up a tool off his desk, making a circular motion with it as he does.

She takes a step back, without even thinking about it.

She won’t go under anyone’s knife again, even a well meaning one.

Even if it means making the pain go away.

She’s been hurting so long it’s the only constant in her life. She has a hard time imagining existing without it.

“No wait...I didn’t mean…” he says, holding up his hands.

But she doesn’t listen, she turns on her heel and leaves his workshop.

She needs to be alone and she needs to think.

Stark watches her go, before dropping his head into his hands with a weighty sigh and a muttered, _“Shit.”_

\---

Pepper Potts opens her eyes to an orange sky and orange ground beneath her.

She sits up and looks around.

No familiar landmarks, nothing to tell her where she is.

She digs in her pockets for her cell phone and comes up empty.

It takes her a moment to gather her thoughts and remember everything that led up this instant of time.

She had seen the events unfolding with horror. After Tony had gone off with Bruce and a few strangers through some sort of portal, Pepper went back to their condo and turned on the news. Usually when Tony got involved in some shit, there would be news coverage soon enough.

It didn’t take long before there was ‘Breaking News’ and shaky camera phone footage showed Tony in his Iron Man suit and that boy Peter Parker in his Spider-Man getup fighting aliens. When that big ship went up into the sky, she had called Tony with trembling hands.

“Are you...up there?” she had asked and he had sighed and confirmed her worst fears moments before the call was cut off and Friday could only tell her that _“Mr. Stark is out of range.”_

Which was a nice way of saying her fiance was on an alien spaceship.

An alien spaceship that seemed to belong to some aliens that had very little interest in leaving humans alive.

The piece of New York City they landed in was wreckage now.

And her _fiance was on their ship._

She had dealt with a lot of weird shit in her life but she didn’t really know what to do when her fiance got shot off into space.

She called Nick Fury, he already knew and he told her honestly, there wasn’t much they could do right now.

Apparently these aliens had shown up in one or two other places and there was a whole situation brewing. That was all he would tell her.

_A situation._

It was around that point when there was a knock on her door.

She opened to find a red-faced May Parker pointing an accusatory finger at her.

 _“Where is he?”_ she demanded in a dangerous steel tone.

Pepper knew who May Parker was of course, she had read up on Peter Parker when they planned that very public initiation into the Avengers which got turned into a last minute wedding proposal.

(Not how she would have done things, but as always, Tony managed to make it into something both heartfelt and catastrophic.)

Of course that didn’t explain how May Parker had found their New York City condo.

“How did you…?” Pepper began, soft and disbelieving. May Parker steamrolled over her.

“I called Happy. He told me I’d find someone here. Now who are you? And where is Stark so I can kick his ass into next week and _where is my nephew?”_ She said all of this very quickly and with the intensity of someone who wasn’t kidding about a word of it.

“I’m Pepper, I’m Tony’s fiance--”

“--Well then you can tell that son of a bitch--”

“--And _I don’t know where they are.”_

That stopped May Parker in her tracks as she squinted up at Pepper.

“What do you mean, you _don’t know?”_

“I mean they’re in _space,_ who the hell knows where they’ve gone,” Pepper said, her voice cracking with her own frustration. And either her words or her tone seemed to finally sap some of the rage from the other woman’s expression.

“But Stark has all that tech…” she said waving a hand in the air before trailing off.

“Not for _space,”_ Pepper said, exasperation getting the better of her, “Even Tony doesn’t have technology for space travel. He’s out of communication range and that’s _all I know.”_

The other woman deflated, trading anger for fear and upset.

“Do you know if Peter’s up there?” she asked in fragile tones and Pepper sighed.

“Why don’t you come in,” she had said, opening the door wider and soon enough she and May were drinking coffee and watching as the news programs repeated the same bits of footage for the next several hours, dissecting it and cutting to pundits who theorized and discussed how this might impact the Sokovia accords.

She called Nick Fury a few more times and was simply told that the _situation_ was still ongoing.

May sat with her, a mostly silent companion to her vigil. She only raised an eyebrow at the first time she called SHIELD. Mostly she watched the news, her mouth in a constant thin line.

It was late in the evening when the coverage shifted to a situation happening near Wakanda. More alien ships seemed to be landing there for reasons yet unknown.

“Do you think?” May had asked and Pepper could only shrug. She would like to think Tony would find a way to call her once he was able, but he was hard to predict in a crisis.

Or he could be dead already, there was no way to know.

The news was beginning to shift away from the Wakanda situation, which largely seemed unchanged and no reporters could gain access to the area.

That was when a commotion began outside the condo.

A car crashed, a voice on the street screamed, and then another joined it, and another.

May and Pepper had looked at each other with a growing sense of foreboding as they raced to the window. Pepper muscled it open and stuck her head out to see a car crashed into the lamppost across the street. A woman outside her building was wailing, facing the opposite direction. Down the street young boy seemed to be shouting for his mother. Pepper turned to look back at May and saw the other woman stopped just before the window.

“Pepper?” she had asked and before Pepper’s eyes, the other woman turned to dust.

 _“May?”_ she had cried out in a panic and then she looked down to see she was crumbling too.

The next she knows, she’s opening her eyes to this orange sky and orange sand with no phone and nobody in sight.

She gets to her feet and shouts as loud as she can, _“May?”_

She hesitates then, glancing around at the featureless landscape with wide eyes, _“Tony?”_

But there’s nothing, no responses, nothing at all.

She stands there for a long time, trying to think of a solution, of where she might be, of what happened or why.

Finally, she sits back down and pulls her knees to her chest, resting her head on them like she did when she was a teenager who stressed too much over homework and her parents and other such small things.

Her troubles seem much bigger now.

She doesn’t look up for a long time, but eventually the sound of footsteps grabs her attention.

Something almost child-sized seems to approach her. It takes a long time before it’s close enough for her to make out details or to understand what it might be calling out.

Finally, it’s close enough and it looks like… A tree?

 _“I am Groot,”_ It calls out and she gets to her feet.

It’s that moment when she realizes that things are only going to get stranger from here on out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do have a plan y'all. Or a vague semblance of one at least.
> 
> Also L'shana Tovah to any fellow Jews out there, I hope you have a sweet new year :)


	9. Clearing the Air

Pepper Potts stands in an orange, windless desert and watches in utter bewilderment as a small tree approaches her, calling out: “I am Groot.”

“Um,” Pepper says as the tree gets close enough that she doesn’t have to shout, “I’m Pepper.”

The tree frowns up at her with dark eyes.

“I am Groot?” It asks.

Pepper stares down at the tree which is just taller than her elbows.

“And I’m Pepper,” she repeats slowly.

She did see aliens attack New York for the second time today, a talking tree shouldn’t be that strange.

The tree just sighs and shakes its head.

“I. Am. _Groot,”_ it says and Pepper nods helplessly.

“Okay Groot, I get it. That’s your name.”

The tree looks almost annoyed.

 _“I am Groot,”_ it says, waving its hands at the scenery around them.

“Is that all you can say?” she asks, the slightest drop of comprehension in a sea of confusion.

“I am Groot,” the tree sighs and it plops down in the sand beside her, pulling its knees to its chest and resting its chin on them not unlike she had before. Except with the trees stature it really does look like a child sulking.

“I’m sorry,” she says, kneeling down beside the tree, “I don’t understand what you’re saying, or where we are, or how I got here.”

She settles in the sand beside the tree, resting her hands on the ground and leaning back to look up at a cloudless amber sky.

“I have no idea what’s going on.”

“I am Groot,” the tree says and it sounds sad. She looks over and sees a look of such sorrow on its small face.

“I’m sorry Groot,” she says and she means it. If the tree ended up here the way she did than there might be loved ones left behind. Other talking trees perhaps?

That makes her almost want to giggle in hysterics, or cry. She’s seen a lot of things, but she’s starting to wonder if she died and that is a lot to take without the addition of a sad tree child and being trapped in a strange orange dimension..

Life can’t get any stranger.

(She wonders if the word still applies if she’s dead)

But crying won’t get her anywhere. She always preferred action and movement. She was always the one that got things done while Tony stewed in his workshop putting together god knows what.

_Tony._

She can’t think about him right now. About where he might be, if he’s alive or dead or _here._

So she gets to her feet and says, “Come on Groot, maybe if we keep walking, we’ll find some more people.”

The tree gets up and wordlessly takes her hand, the way a child does when crossing the street. The bark of its fingers is rough, but flexible like sapling wood.

Pepper nods because it feels like the thing to do as she looks down it and says, “Alright then, let’s get moving.”

“I am Groot,” the tree replies and it sounds like agreement.

So the woman and tree set off into the vaste wasteland hand in hand.

\---

Bruce Banner sits in his lab on his own floor of this enormous facility. The whole floor is Hulk-proof although that doesn’t seem like much of an issue these days.

Except when the Hulk seems to be deliberately annoying him.

The other day he tried to take a blood sample and his hand turned big and green and hurled the syringe across the room.

“So you won’t come out when it helps but you’ll do _that?”_ he yelled to an empty lab and felt his face twist with the all too familiar sensation of muscle and bone shifting and twisting, all just so he could say _“Yes,”_ and then subside.

He tried reasoning with his other half, but it wasn’t so much talking as it was shouting and half transforming so the Hulk could tell him _“No,”_ over and over again.

The Hulk has always been a somewhat simple being. Not stupid, but simple. Straightforward even.

So when the Hulk decided to remain dormant rather than fight Thanos again Bruce was mad...but also he couldn’t _really_ blame him.

That didn’t stop the scientist from trying.

And then trying to run tests to see if it was anything more than Hulk-related stubbornness (It wasn’t).

So that brought him back to the task at hand, attempting to be helpful in his limited way. Tony had sent him loads of readings Friday had gathered from when Vision and Dr. Strange were around, along with archived scans from the Tesseract.

It was about trying to find what linked them. What small bit of gamma radiation might be the commonality between them. He had even run comparisons with scans from when Wanda used her abilities. Her powers were enough to break a stone, there might be something in that.

Whenever he found that _thing,_ he would message Tony about it and the man would have to code that into his devices but it was a start.

Once they can key into radiation signatures or the chemical makeup of the stones, they might be able to destroy them or disable them or _use_ them.

Right now it seems like anything can happen if he and Tony could just figure this out.

So he’s been spending most of his days running calculations at his computer, wearing his familiar guilt like an old sweater.

In the last few days Steve’s been coming to sit in his lab. He hasn’t talked much, usually he brings his sketchpad and draws, but he keeps coming and keeping Bruce company for some reason.

Bruce can’t quite figure out why and it’s not until the third day that it occurs to him.

He’s the only one that wasn’t here for the fight.

(Technically neither were the aliens but Steve doesn’t know them and in his off hours he never struck Bruce as one who made new friends easily)

Bruce doesn’t know a ton about what happened. He knows it got Rhodey injured bad enough to need that brace Tony built for him. He knows that Wanda, Sam, Clint, and someone they call Ant Man got put in some sort of high security prison.

He knows it was bad.

There aren’t group to-do’s like there were before. Evenings spent with everyone crowded into the kitchen, talking over each other.

But he sees it in the moments when they cross paths. The way Clint would avoid eye contact with Tony when he finally left the gym for a glass of water. The way Rhodey and Natasha smile at each other with a hint of wariness.

It was Steve who explained it to him, in as few words as possible.

The Sokovia Accords, Bucky Barnes, the death of a king named T’Chaka and his son out for revenge until he wasn’t.

It all went so wrong so fast.

Meanwhile Bruce came home with two years missing from his head and he came home to a tragedy.

None of it is ideal.

Now he’s sitting at his desk, idly tapping at a notepad with his pen.

On the other side of the room, Steve sits on a couch that Tony thought to put in here for some reason. His drawing hand is still over his sketchpad and Bruce finds himself asking, “Hey Steve, not that I mind you being here all the time but…”

And Steve looks up at him, his eyes taking an extra second to focus like he was just miles away. He regards Bruce in silence then looks away with something like amusement.

“You’re wondering why?”

Bruce shrugs, “I can guess a little based on what everyone’s told me but I can’t imagine sitting in here all day is... _fun.”_

Steve frowns at him.

“I’m not sure anybody is having much fun these days Bruce.”

“That’s not what I meant,” the scientist says and Steve sighs.

“You weren’t here for it. The people who were treat me differently. Clint and Nat are fine but Rhodey and Tony?” He breaks off and shakes his head.

“Have you talked to either of them?” Bruce asks carefully.

“Rhodey’s been perfectly polite when we pass each other in the halls or the gym but it’s awkward and Tony…” He breaks off again with another sigh, “We talked right after he got here and he’ll say hello if I pass him in the kitchen but…”

Bruce looks at Steve carefully, sees the look in his eyes that speaks to age and regret.

“I wouldn’t do anything differently,” he murmurs, “I was protecting Bucky but...things went bad with Tony and I can’t change that.”

Bruce puts down his pen, “You could go down to the workshop and talk to him.”

Steve shrugs, “I don’t know what to say.”

Bruce shrugs back, “Me neither, but you should say _something.”_

The soldier looks at the scientist with a calculated expression.

“Have you talked to Nat?”

“No, but that’s an entirely separate issue that boils down to: Its better this way,” Bruce says flatly.

“Is it better?” Steve asks and Bruce exhales loudly, his shoulders slumping down.

“What we had was a fever dream and a bad one at that. We’re better off as friends,” he looks over at Steve with a mournful smile. Steve looks back, thoughtful and quiet.

“Have you talked to him at all?” he asks, not having to clarify which ‘him’ he's talking about.

“Not a whole lot,” Bruce replies, “He’s down in his workshop most of the time. He usually goes there when he wants to be alone. We’ve been texting a lot about the Infinity Stone research.”

“And you still think I should go down and talk to him?” Steve asks.

“Yeah I do,” Bruce replies and Steve nods. Tony tends to have less than helpful impulses. He told Bruce as much once a few years ago. His exact words were, “My instincts are shit, feel free to try and stop me from being an idiot.”

He did try with Ultron, it didn’t seem to take. But he always liked Tony as the one person who never was afraid of him or the Hulk. Who treated him like a person and not a combustible thing. So he felt that he owed it to the man to look out for him when he could. Even if that just meant pointing somebody else in his direction.

Steve gets up from his seat and heads for the door, only pausing in the doorway to look back.

“Are you okay Bruce?” he asks.

“Are any of us?” Bruce asks and Steve smiles a little, wry and without humor, and with that he heads out the door.

\---

It’s not that Steve Rogers has been _avoiding_ a talk with Tony as much as…

There’s been so much else.

So, so much…

He thinks of Bucky, he thinks of Sam. He thinks of Clint, carved out and quiet. He thinks of Natasha, her mouth in that thin, thin line.

And then Tony.

Tony who tends to suck the air out of every room he’s in, filling in with chatter and nervous energy. Steve has known for a long time that Tony had issues. They’ve always been a team of damaged people. But in the case of Tony Stark, he never really considered how much.

It hurts to think how much of that was caused by Howard. Based on what little he’s gleaned, Howard was not a kind father. It hurts to remember the eager young man and see what his son became. A genius, like his father, but bitter edged with fear filled eyes.

And the rift between them after Sokovia…

After Bucky.

It reminds Steve of those soldiers on the field.

The ones who couldn’t get help in time.

The ones who bled out or whose wounds became too infected to help. Theirs were the ones that would turn dark and gangrenous. Like they were rotting from the inside out.

His friendship with Tony was never easy. They were too alike and too different in every way that mattered. Stubborn and determined in every clashing way.

The Sokovia Accords was just the first time it came to blows.

But the blows did come and they couldn’t be taken back.

They had talked when Tony first arrived, just awoken from surgery, sorrow filled and shock riddled. Steve had been the one to break the news about Pepper and the two of them were just reacting.

It might have broken the ice but it hadn’t dealt with what lay underneath.

They had fought.

They had broken the team and made them choose sides.

No amount of polite greetings in the hallway would fix that.

They had to talk and it seemed that Steve would have to be the one to initiate it.

\---

Tony stares at the doorway for a long time after Nebula leaves the workshop. Caught between befuddlement and worry and a sense that he probably fucked up somehow.

Tony usually fucks things up.

He considered going after her but he’s pretty sure that Nebula might be the type inclined to violence when she’s pissed and for once Tony thought it might be smart to not poke that with a stick.

So he sits in his workshop with his head in his hands and debates calling Harley back or just sitting and feeling sorry for himself while staring at the skeleton of a prototype that’s nearly built on his workbench.

It seems he’s doing the latter when he hears footsteps and looks up to see Steve coming down the steps with his hands buried in his pockets.

“Did something happen?” Tony blurts out, admittedly a weird way to start a conversation but Steve _never_ comes down to his workshop.

“No,” Steve replies sharply and little bit startled.

“Okay,” Tony says equally on edge, “Then what’s up?”  
Steve looks down at his feet and then looks back at Tony.

“Are you okay?” he asks. All that do-gooder earnestness plastered across his face.

Tony can't help the small smirk that comes as he mutters, “God, even when you're a fugitive you're still the boyscout.”

The moment after he says it, he almost visibly flinches. Seeing as how he is a big part of the reason _why_ Steve Rogers is a fugitive.

“Sorry,” he says, too quickly and too fucking awkwardly.

Steve smiles, the smallest quirk at the edges of his mouth and shakes his head, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Really?” Tony asks, all edges and narrowed eyes, _“Really?”_

Steve pushes his hands deeper into his pockets, his shoulders coming up around his ears.

“I...regret what happened, but I’m not angry,” he says slowly and with great care.

“Are you sure?” Tony asks, eyes narrowing still further, “Because I would be.”

“You were doing what you thought was right,” Steve says, eying him with the same sort of nervous care.

“I still think it was the right thing to do,” he says, sitting straighter in his seat before immediately melting back into a slouch, “At least the oversight part.”

“You still think we need oversight?” Steve asks and there’s no anger in it, just curiosity.

“Well not _right now,”_ Tony says, rolling his eyes, “Right now there’s nothing to oversee and no one to oversee it. What we need right now is a fucking babysitter,” he turns back to the mess of circuits sitting on his desk, idly fiddling with the connectors and how they fit together into a loose sort of band that would fit around his wrist like a watch.

 _“Or a therapist,”_ he mutters and when he looks up Steve is looking down at his feet again, his mouth twisted in a crooked line.

Tony has to swallow before adding, “I’m sorry about Barnes,” which gets Steve’s attention in a flash. The intensity of it is nearly blinding, as is the look in the soldier’s eyes. Like cracks in a glacier.

“I regret… that part,” Tony says, and it almost hurts to say it out loud, “And I’m sorry about Sam.”

Steve just nods at the ground looking fit to burst and Tony feels like he might have fucked it up again. Instead Steve just swallows hard, rubbing a hand over his eyes and taking a deep breath before he looks up at Tony and asks, “So what are you working on?” and he points to the pile of wires and circuits a foot away from Tony’s elbow.

The almost prototype.

Or possibly a pile of crap, he’s not sure yet.

“Oh it’s ah… it’s nothing,” he says and Steve shoots him a funny look.

“Okay it’s not nothing but I have no clue if it will even work,” Tony says and Steve just watches him with that look, clearly waiting for more.

“Okay _fine._ It’s a prototype for a thing that might…” he says this too quickly and trails off grasping to explain the idea in his head.

“The idea was just to wiretap their frequency. The Infinity Stones. The gamma radiation. The common signal they _must all_ give off.”

“What will that do?” Steve asks and Tony almost laughs, “I have no fucking clue. We’re practically operating in the dark with the stones, but maybe this will tell us something we didn't know.”

Steve nods at that, frowning down at his shoes again. When he looks up again he says, “Just so you know, I still think we were doing the right thing too...With the Accords. But I’m sorry about what happened to Rhodey, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about what Bucky did.”

Tony bites the inside of his cheek.

Perspective is a hell of a thing and when he had time and distance, he could intellectually understand that James Buchanan Barnes did not murder his parents. The Winter Soldier did. And there was a shit load of conditioning and brainwashing separating one from the other. But it still tore him apart seeing it. Especially while the hands that did it were just a few feet away. Even now it still stings. But that’s not really Steve’s fault, or his idiot, traumatized war buddy.

So Tony nods and after a moment Steve asks, “So, are we okay?” his head tilted to one side, his hands still buried in his pockets. Tony chuckles, “Yeah Cap, we’re okay”

Its at that moment that the door chimes and Nebula walks in.

“Your friend is inebriated upstairs with a blonde woman,” she says to both of them with no preamble and before Tony can ask a who or what, she continues looking right at him, “And yes, I’ll do it.”

It takes Tony a second to realize that she means the repairs and then a grin slowly forms and he isn’t even sure why.

“Okay,” Steve says looking back and forth between them, “I’ll go check upstairs.”

“Let me know if anyone’s actively dying,” Tony says as a farewell and winces again. That was probably a bad thing to say but Steve just huffs a laugh and shakes his head, “Will do,” and then he heads up the stairs and out of sight.

\---

It’s late afternoon from the way the sunlight streaming in is turning golden and Natasha stands in the doorway with a blonde woman he’s never seen before. She’s taking off her jacket and laughing about something as the blonde woman notices him and grins, “Oh hello there,” she pauses and looks back at Nat, “Steve right?”

Natasha nods, still chuckling and Steve feels wildly out of his depth somehow.

“Um, hi,” he says and Nat looks at him and the woman before stepping between them.

“Steve this is Carol Danvers, Carol this is Steve Rogers,” she says and there’s only the slightest blurring of her words that gives away any hint of drunkenness. That and the fact that they smell like they’ve been swimming in vodka.

“Hi Steve,” Carol says, her words only slightly more slurred than Natasha’s.

“I hope you didn’t drive,” Steve says, looking over at Natasha who looks deeply amused.

“No, we _flew.”_

Steve opens his mouth to say something, he has no idea what when Carol’s smile widens as she throws him a sloppy salute.

 _Okay,_ Steve thinks, out loud he says, “Coffee?”

\---

After getting them both strong cups of coffee and Friday helping Carol find a room, Steve follows Natasha to her bedroom and stops in the doorway as Natasha lazily wanders in and sits on the bed to take off her shoes.

“Is everything okay?” Steve asks and Natasha shoots him a look.

“Everything's fine Steve.”

“I’m only asking because…”

“I said _it’s fine.”_

Steve takes a step back from the door and she sighs.

“Remember what I said about coping? This was fun but I’m not making a habit of it.”

Steve nods, staring down at the floor and considering that before saying, “So that’s the woman who called you.”

Natasha nods.

“Do you think she’ll be able to help?”

Natasha pulls off her right boot and chucks it towards her closet before looking at him.

“Yeah I do.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was Really Hard for some reason? And a few notes
> 
> 1\. Did you see that Captain Marvel trailer? Daaaaaaamn I'm still pretty sure my characterization of her is going to be way off but she will be scrappy like in the trailer. (Also why are people mad about her not smiling? She's busy being an alien and also military and crashing into a blockbuster and the trailer in 2 minutes long.)
> 
> 2\. So Bruce Banner is kinda my least favorite Avenger? I don't hate him but like...I like the others more. There's a reason its taken 9 chapters to get a major scene with Bruce and also no offense to anybody who ships Natasha and Bruce but I super don't. He was probably a little OOC honestly in his scene because I just don't have a handle on him as much as some of the others.
> 
> 3\. Groot and Pepper. I'm so glad I thought of that and it was so fun to write.


	10. Repairs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, sorry this fic died for a minute. Juggling this many characters and writing some big sweeping Infinity War AU is hard. Also life has been A LOT lately. While I’m not dangerously near any of the big wildfires I am near enough that outside looks pretty apocalyptic, Also found out I need to quit my job and move in a few months so life has been A LOT.
> 
> As for this fic itself. A few notes.  
> 1\. Listen guys I am totally here for actual constructive criticism/feedback. Feel free to criticize my poor punctuation and love of sentence fragments to hell and back if you like. (I like the nice stuff too but I'm open to criticism) That said, please keep in mind what is actually useful feedback and what is your personal opinion about why character A sux. Keep those thinkpieces and Civil War debates on Tumblr please and not in my comment section? Since I’m coming from a place of pretty much loving every single character I don’t need that.  
> 2\. I still know very little about Captain Marvel. I’m basing her off my impressions from the trailer as well as Brie Larson’s general energy in other films I’ve seen with her? (Free Fire and Short Term 12 leap to mind). So like 90% of this will be wrong as soon as the new movie comes out in March and oh well.  
> 3\. I also don’t need your opinions of the MCU version of her when none of us have seen it yet beyond a 2 minute teaser? I definitely don’t need comments about how she should smile more. Just go on google if you need a primer on why that sucks or just refer back to Brie Larson’s very good Instagram post on the topic.
> 
> With all that said, this is a short chapter but I wanted to post something because it’s been awhile and I wanted to make sure we all know this fic isn’t dead. And also this will probably need spellcheck and I’ll do that later k byeeee

Pepper doesn’t know how long she has been walking. It’s impossible to mark the passage of time. She doesn’t get tired or hungry, she just keeps walking. Beside her, the little tree still clings onto her hand, his small face twisted in a look of worry or sadness.

They don’t talk much.

Once she paused and looked down to ask, “Do you want to stop and rest for a while?”

“I am Groot,” he said and shook his head.

So they kept walking.

Life really couldn’t get any stranger.

When they finally can make out a distant figure sitting down in the sand, Groot takes off running.

“I am Groot! _I am Groot!”_ he calls, waving his leafy arms in the air.

Pepper has no other choice but to follow and as they get closer, she can see the figure stand up to face them. A few more steps and she can make out the man they’re approaching.

He’s built large, like Steve Rogers or Thor. He wears his dark hair cut military short and a black shirt that seems to have a skull emblazoned on it. Something about him looks familiar but she can’t quite place it.

His steely look stops her before she can get close enough to speak at a reasonable volume. Both of them have to raise their voice a little to be heard over the wind.

“Who are you?” he asks, eying her and Groot with suspicion.

“Pepper Potts, who are you?” she shoots back, on edge.

“Frank Castle, what’s with the tree?”

 _“I am Groot,”_ the little tree yells angrily.

“Sorry,” Frank says reflexively before looking back at Pepper.

“Do you know where we are?” he asks.

“No, do you?”

He shakes his head.

Groot takes a few steps back and takes her hand again and the man notices, his head tilting a little to one side.

“Seriously, what’s with the tree?”

_“I am Groot.”_

“You said that before.”

Pepper sighs and runs a hand through her hair, tugging the pair of them a few more steps forward so she doesn’t have to keep almost-shouting.

“I found him here. I think his name is Groot but that’s all he says and with the aliens in New York…” she trails off with a shrug, looking down at the little tree, “He seems harmless.”

Frank looks down at Groot with a frown.

“He seems like a kid,” he says, eyebrows knit together on his forehead.

“I think he is,” Pepper says.

“I am _Groot,”_ the tree says, the last part coming out like a whine the way a child might exclaim they are _not_ a child.

Franks eyebrows shoot up into his hairline and he nearly smiles.

“So not at _all_ a kid, got it.”

Pepper looks up at the man, close to amusement herself. Its as funny as a thing can be when standing amidst wreckage and probable death. Pepper feels fairly certain they might be dead as she looks over the man in front of her again.

Finally she remembers where she’s seen him.

“Oh my god, you’re the Punisher aren’t you?”

She remembers his face from the news, when he was photographed leaping over a police car after detonating a bomb. She pulls Groot back a step and sees the man’s grimace.

“I didn’t do any of those things they said I did,” he says hotly, then he frowns again, head tilting to one side.

“Well I didn’t set off any bombs at least. I did do some other stuff.”

Pepper stares, at once she is reminded viscerally of her idiot fiance when he tries to explain what stupid thing he did for a good reason. She’s not sure how she feels about the mental comparison.

Meanwhile the man sighs and runs a hand through his short hair.

“Sorry, I’m not…” he trails off and starts again, “Have you seen a woman? A little smaller than you, blonde, blue eyes, knows how to handle herself? Her name’s Karen.”

Pepper shakes her head.

“I haven’t seen anyone but you two,” she nods at him and Groot who pipes up with another _“I am Groot.”_

The man nods down at the ground, “Right...that’s good…”

Pepper wants to ask why that’s good. Except she knows the answer. Whoever Karen is, if he cares about her than he wouldn’t want her here.

Pepper still prays she isn’t going to meet Tony here.

“If you see her…” he starts and then hesitates again, swallowing hard.

And Pepper is debating whether or not it would be a good idea to ask him to come with them.

Not that they know where they’re going.

Or what they’re doing.

Or if he’s really dangerous or not.

She didn’t notice that Groot let go of her hand.

But she _does_ notice when the little tree walks forward to stand in front of Frank. The man looks down, clearly confused.

“Um…” he says before Groot grabs him by the wrist and pulls him towards Pepper.

“I am Groot,” he says impatiently and gestures towards Pepper and beyond her.

The invitation is clear and to her immense surprise, the big man smiles a little bit.

“Okay kid, okay,” he says softly.

“I am _Groot,”_ the tree tells him sternly.

“Right. Okay Groot,” he says and the tree nods, dropping his wrist and marching past Pepper with the clear expectation that they should both be following.

Frank looks at her and then the tree.

“I can go if you want me to,” he tells her quietly. And it’s the gentleness of those words that surprises her. The lack of assumption.

“No, it’s fine,” she says, “You can come.”

She turns and heads off after Groot hearing a soft chuckle behind her followed by footsteps.

“Hey any idea where we’re going?” he asks.

“None whatsoever,” Pepper replies.

 _“I am Groot,”_ the tree scolds them from a few feet away, clearly demanding that they pick up the pace. Pepper trades a look with the vigilante and they hurry to catch up.

\---

The next morning Steve walks into the kitchen to find Carol Danvers muttering curses at the coffeemaker. A spill of coffee grounds on the counter tells its own story as Steve asks, “Do you need help with that?”

She turns to look at him and grins ruefully.

“Sorry I haven’t really dealt with things like coffeemakers for awhile...or Earth gravity...” she says.

“How long is awhile?” he asks and she shrugs,

“Twenty-five years give or take?”

“How old are you exactly?” he asks mildly as she steps back from the coffeemaker and he sweeps the grounds into his hand to deposit them in the trash bin under the sink.

“Um, I think I’m around 50,” she says and he raises his brows at her. She just grins, unfazed.

“I’m part alien, so I don’t really age normally,” she says with another shrug, “Besides, you should talk I hear you’re like _eighty.”_

Now it’s his turn to grin a little, “Yeah but I’m aging normally now. I just got put on ice for 50 years.”

She nods and watches with interest as he puts a coffee filter into the machine and fills it with a few spoonfuls of overpriced coffee.

When Tony first invited them all to the facility there was only an espresso machine which Steve could never figure out. Eventually enough of them begged and Tony got the fanciest looking coffeemaker Steve had ever seen. Add onto that the most expensive coffee, Steve had ever drank. It tasted nice but Steve nearly fainted when he saw the price tag on it.

Now Steve ignores all that as he shuts the lid and starts the machine. When he looks back at Carol she nods, _“Right,_ I forgot where the coffee went.”

And Steve doesn’t really know what to say to that so he nods back and the two of them sit in companionable silence, waiting for the coffee to brew. When the timer says it’s nearly done, Steve gets two mugs down and turns back to where Carol is still watching this process with mild interest.

“Do you take milk or sugar with your coffee?” he asks and she wrinkles her nose. It makes him smile a little. All the fancy coffee they have nowadays still puts him a little on edge. He got used to drinking the mud they brewed on campfires in Germany. All the syrups and milk foam are as alien to him as the woman sitting on the other side of the counter. He wonders where she might get her preference for black coffee from.

Without a word he pours her a mug full and passes it over before filling his own and leaning against the counter with it.

“You have questions,” she says, a statement and not a query.

“I’m not really sure where to start,” Steve replies.

“Well if you’re wondering about yesterday, your friend Nat looked like she needed a night out.”

He couldn’t really disagree with that so he just nodded and she continued.

“She told me you guys are working on a device to track the Infinity Stones and find Thanos but you have no way to get to him once you’ve found him. I might be able to help with the tracking and getting you guys a ship.”

His brows shoot up, but he nods rather than interrupt.

“Let’s see what else, I’m part Kree. That’s where the powers come from…” she stops and takes a deep gulp of her coffee before setting it down on the counter.

“What else do you want to know?”

Steve stares with his mouth slightly open before shrugging and looking down at his own mug of coffee.

“I think you just about covered it,” then he looks back at her, “Do _you_ have any questions?”

Her mouth goes a little hard at the edge and she nods.

“Did Nick die when…?” she trails off before holding up a hand and snapping her finger.

“As far as we know,” Steve tells her and she nods down at her mug.

Neither of them speak for several minutes and the silence is heavier. Weighty with loss.

Finally she looks up at him, “There’s a few people I want to check in on,” she says with a frown. Nat has my number, but it sounds like you won’t need me right away so I’m going to go.”

Again it’s not a question, but a statement as she gets up from her seat, meeting his gaze squarely.

Steve doesn’t really know what to say. Again.

So he just says, “We’ll be in touch.”

She nods and heads out of the kitchen and down the hall. Steve gets up, goes to the kitchen entryway, and looks out.

He sees her open the front door and stand, feet apart, and _jump._

He jogs to the front door in time to see a small figure in the sky, zooming away.

\---

In the short time that Tony has known Nebula, ‘fear’ is never a term he would associate with her. The moment he pulls out the scanners and such, she tenses up like a full body flinch.

“Okay, I’m just going to ask Friday to do a full scan of your circuits,” he says and she nods tightly.

As soon as Friday displays her internal wiring on the holographic projector and right away he can see the problem areas.

There are a lot of them.

So when he turns to Nebula after studying the scan he says, “Okay I want to start on your right shoulder.”

It feels like she’s using all her self control to _not move._ Holding herself rigid to the point that when he finally has to touch her, prodding at the shoulder in question, he can feel a tremor.

 _This isn’t going to work,_ he muses, and steps back. Still, he’s never been one to give up when faced with a challenge. He tries to think of this like his panic attacks.

_What’s helped with those?_

He draws a blank until he considers Natasha the other day. Her calm in the face of it helped...sort of…

Except from what little he knows, Nebula has a whole lot of other issues.

And he’s not good at this.

He bites the inside of cheek, thinking. Finally Nebula looks at his sidelong.

“Get on with it Stark,” she grits out through her teeth and he frowns.

“Can you open the panel on your shoulder?” he asks for lack of anything better to say. He turns back to the holographic projector and points, “The one that would let me get to that connector?”

She stills, going almost statue-like as she stares at him.

Either he did something right or he did something really stupid, he genuinely has no idea.

“I’ll need tools,” she says slowly.

“Oh right, sure,” Tony says and immediately goes to one of his tool boxes pulling out wrenches and screwdrivers and pliers.

He drops of pile of them on the table beside her stool and she’s still staring at him with an unreadable expression.

Tony wonders idly is this is what vets must feel like when they work with cats. Wondering if they did the right thing or if they’re about to be savaged.

Slowly she reaches for flathead screwdriver, her eyes never leaving his face. She digs the head of the tool into a thin slot between two panels on her shoulder. She winces as she jerks the tool sideways, wrenching the panel away from her shoulder, and catching it reflexively before it hits the ground.

Tony gapes, as she looks up at him with that neutral gaze.

“You have to pry it off?” Tony asks, incredulous bordering on upset, “How are you expected to do routine maintenance or repairs like that?”

“Father considered a need for repairs as a weakness,”

Tony stares at her, mouth open.

 _“Fuck your dad,”_ he snaps and then hesitates, “I mean fuck him already for being a genocidal maniac but _fuck your dad.”_

Her eyebrows lift ever so slightly and she says nothing, which is good because Tony is _pissed._

“Even barring that weakness bullshit you were raised on, machinery _wears out._ Wires fray and circuits fail. It’s not weakness it’s _basic fucking mechanics,”_ he gestures wildly and Nebula just watches him with an odd look that gives nothing away.

“Not all the panels have to be removed like that. Some of them come away,” she says, still blank as she reaches up to press a panel beside her eye. It separates from her face and moves to the side, “But they weren’t consistent with that,” she presses the panel below the first and it remains pressed to her face.

“Doesn’t it _hurt?”_ Tony asks, gesturing vaguely at her shoulder, “You must have pain receptors right?”

She shrugs, “Pain is temporary.”

“That’s not a good reason for that,” Tony exclaims feeling like he might implode trying to explain to this robot why her predicament is every kind of unfair.

Up until the moment she shoots him another unreadable look and says, “I know,” and then Tony deflates because he doesn’t have to _explain_ this shit to Nebula. She’s been living it for years.

“Right, sorry,” he mutters and slowly she sets the removed panel and screwdriver on the table beside her.

He can’t figure out what’s in the look she’s aiming at him now but it’s not anger as she says, “Are we going to get on with this or not?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Tony says and rummages through his drawers for a new connector. One of the wires in her shoulder is nearly worn out.

The next time he comes back and lays a hand on her shoulder, the tremor is gone but she continues to watch him in a way that Tony would classify as ‘hawk-like.’

And again Tony wonders if he passed some sort of test with her.

But soon enough he’s lost in the work. Hours pass as he replaces wires and fittings throughout her arms and legs. Tightens screws and on one elbow, rebuilds an entirely new joint to replace the old one. He doesn’t even realize it’s the next morning until he’s finished with her extremities. It seems they worked through the night.

When he looks back at the holographic projection of her, now the only problem areas are in her head, neck, and chest.

He sets down his tools and steps back.

“You’re finished,” Nebula says and it feels like a question without being phrased as one.

“We should get Bruce down here before I work on any of those areas,” he says waving a loose hand at the projection.

“Why?”

“Because all this shit surrounds _vital organs,”_ he says tiredly rubbing a hand over his forehead.

Again, he gets a neutral look from her and he sighs and shakes his head, “I could _rupture_ something by accident. Bruce is the closest we’ve got to a medic on hand, he could make sure…” he waves a hand hoping she can fill in the rest.

She nods her head slowly, her eyes still tracking him around the room.

At that moment his phone buzzes.

He picks it up without even thinking.

_Bruce:_

_You should be able to input this formula into your prototype._

_Let me know before you try anything._

He stares at the phone, his heart rate speeding up.

“What is it?” Nebula asks from her seat at his workbench. For a moment he doesn’t answer, opening the attachment and waving a hand for Friday to upload it to the server.

“Tony, what is it?” Nebula asks again, hesitating on his name.

“It’s um...a formula,” he says only half paying attention as he watches the file get uploaded, a bar that’s at 50% completion.

“A formula for what?”

He finally looks at Nebula properly. He’s tired, he’s been up all night, and his hands are shaking. The way she’s watching him might actually translate to worry, it’s hard to tell.

“It’s based off all the readings we were able to gather from the Infinity Stones we’ve been around. All the stones give off a very specific kind of gamma radiation. If we could tap into that frequency…” he trails off as he sees the file is finished uploading, “Friday transfer the file to model 8XA.52.”

“Right away Tony,” Friday responds and Nebula is still frowning at him.

“Shouldn’t you tell someone before you try this?” she asks and he shrugs. His messy band of circuits should be able to take on that formula as code. The transfer process should do that.

“It’s fine,” he says to Nebula, “I run tests down here all the time.”

“Transfer complete,” Friday says as he fits the band over his right hand and tightens it around his wrist.

“Maybe this should wait,” she says, sounding practically on edge.

“It’s fine,” he says again and flips the switch for activation.

“No, _wait--”_ is the last thing he hears and then nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaah a thing happened. Also I super love The Punisher a lot so like...yeah that was fun to write I might throw in Jessica Jones too because she's fun.


	11. Reckless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just gonna say one more time, please keep your Civil War opinions about who is right, wrong, or deserving of forgiveness somewhere that isn't my comments section. I like everybody and I'm going to continue to write these idiots how I see fit.
> 
> (Unless there's something Actually triggering or problematic or something than feel free to come at me with your thoughts and constructive criticism but your opinions on who sucks or doesn't really belong somewhere else)
> 
> (Most of you are lovely and I appreciate your comments, criticism, and encouragement)

Nebula barely had a leash on the panic that was rising in her throat as Tony Stark fit his bracelet of wires and circuits to his wrist. She told him not to do whatever he was about to do but he didn’t listen.

“No, _wait--”_ she exclaimed, a hand reaching out to do something.

He flipped a switch and dropped like a stone.

And Nebula feels like she might short circuit.

She rushes to where he’s lying in a heap on the ground and it takes a moment for her throat to work enough to raise her voice.

“Friday who is closest to our position.”

“Steve Rogers is but--”

_“Get him here now.”_

“Right away miss,” Friday says. Even the AI sounds worried.

“Oh and the medic Stark mentioned before,” Nebula says.

“Dr. Banner,” the AI prompts her and she nods her head feeling like her throat is full of gravel, “Get him.”

\---

Since Frank Castle joined Pepper and Groot their journey has been fairly quiet.

Or rather, it’s been _extremely_ quiet.

Frank hasn’t said a word. He just follows behind the Pepper and Groot at what she can only call a ‘respectful distance.’

Although when a blinding bright light flashes, he’s by her side in an instant.

 _“What?”_ she sputters and she can hear Frank beside her mutter, “The hell?”

It takes a few seconds for her eyes to clear and when they do…

 _“Tony?”_ she cries out. He’s standing in front of her, wide-eyed and slightly less than opaque like he’s not really there.

“Tony,” she says again, her voice breaking and he stares at her with tear filled eyes.

 _“Pepper?”_ he asks and his voice sounds like it’s coming from miles away.

She reaches out to try and grab his hand or do something. _Anything._

But just as soon as he appears, the light flashes and he’s gone.

\---

Steve Rogers is standing out in the hall, still pondering Carol Danvers after her dramatic exit, when Friday chimes from the overhead speaker: “Steve, your presence is urgently requested in the workshop.”

He stares up at the ceiling, frozen for an instant.

And then he bolts for the workshop entrance and clatters down the stairs.

At the bottom he finds Tony on the ground and Nebula, sitting with her back pressed against one of his workbenches a few feet away. Her face is unreadable as her eyes glance over to him before looking back at Tony. He isn’t moving.

“What happened?” he asks.

“He’s not breathing,” she grits out.

_Shit._

“Friday, get Bruce,” Steve says aloud, trying not to panic.

“Already on his way,” she says and Steve takes the last few steps to drop beside Tony. He puts two fingers against the man’s neck to check if...

He has no pulse.

_Shit._

He’s not sure how to do CPR around an arc reactor, but he’s about to try.

“Nebula, _what happened?”_ he asks as he presses his hands on top of the reactor and pushes down and up and down.

“He didn’t listen,” she replies and he would think she sounded angry if it weren’t for the flicker of fear he spotted when he looked up.

\---

They started walking again, for lack of anything better to do mostly.

Peter finds himself glancing back at the Winter Soldier _(Bucky. He said his name was Bucky)_ and then at Gamora and Dr. Strange. Both of them seem massively unfazed about travelling with some kind of criminal assassin.

Mr. Stark didn’t actually tell him a lot about the Winter Soldier before they went off to Berlin.

And presently Bucky has been nothing but polite and quiet. Mostly quiet.

He’s definitely noticed Peter’s furtive looks though. Peter can tell.

Finally the silence is getting to him. He slows his pace so after a moment he’s walking beside the Winter Soldier. For his part, Bucky clearly notices this too, based on the glance he flicks at Peter. Still, he says nothing.

“How did you end up here?” Peter asks and the man sighs.

“Same as you probably,” Bucky replies and Peter opens his mouth to say something else like when a light flashes and all of them freeze.

By this time his eyes clear, Gamora and Dr. Strange are beside them and Tony Stark seems to have appeared out of thin air.

“What?” Peter blurts out at the sight of him. His image seems strangely insubstantial but Peter is distracted by the way he’s staring at Peter, utterly stricken.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter asks and Tony actually takes a step back, glancing at the others and then back at him. He shakes his head and when he speaks his voice sounds almost muted.

_“Oh no. No, no, no.”_

“Mr. Stark, I’m really sorry,” Peter says taking a step forward to try and reach out. His throat tightens around the words but he forces them out, “I’m so, _so sorry._ Is Aunt May okay? Have you seen Ned? Or Happy? _”_

And Tony just stares, mouth open like he might say something else.

Then the light flashes and he’s gone.

And Peter starts to cry. Right there in the stupid orange sand, he bursts into tears like the idiot kid that he is. He folds to his knees, his hands dig into his hair and he cries.

Why didn’t he say something? He just stared at Peter like _a ghost._

Because Peter is dead now, that’s why...or close enough to it. He’s dead. And he has no idea if Aunt May made it, or Ned, or MJ. He doesn’t know why Tony looked so sad when he saw Peter. He knows almost nothing beyond the fact that he’s stuck here and it seems like there’s no way out.

So he cries in pure hopeless anger and for what feels like an age, none of the adults say anything. Or do anything.

He’s just crying like a baby in front of a couple of near strangers and he can’t seem to stop.

Finally a big hand rests on his back.

“I know kid, I know…” The Winter Soldier says.

\---

Nebula doesn’t move or say a word as she watches Steve Rogers do something he called ‘CPR’ which involves him compressing the unconscious man’s chest in a repetitive, steady beat.

She idly wonders what this might accomplish for a Terran.

She wonders what the man will do if Stark is dead because of some stupid accident.

She wonders what she will do.

Time passes, it might be a minute or a day, she has no idea. Finally the door chimes and the bespectacled man she’s barely seen since she got here comes running.

She remembers the way he did the same thing when she and Tony landed here.

It feels like that was ages ago and something about that makes her mouth tighten.

“He didn’t listen,” the man breathes as he bends down beside Steve, pressing two fingers against Tony’s neck the way the other did earlier. His other hand moves to open a small kit he’s brought with him as he continues, “I told him to wait before he tried anything. Damn it Tony.”

The last part is addressed to Stark himself.

Steve is still attempting this CPR but Banner stops him with a hand on his arm.

“He’s got no pulse,” he says softly.

“Then do something,” Steve replies and Banner shakes his head, glancing back at her.

“There’s nothing I can do.”

At that moment Tony bolts upright with a rasping gasp.

\---

It feels like being slammed back in his own body. Consciousness comes hard as his body tries to fill its lungs and he chokes on it. Everything around him sound hollow and far away but there are voices talking to him and hands on him. Somebody turns him on his side and there’s a hand on his back as he coughs and coughs and tries to take a breath.

His head pounds and the room feels like it’s spinning and maybe an elephant danced on his chest?

“Tony, _Tony_ can you hear me?”

“Give him a minute. He’s probably disoriented.”

“Seriously Bruce what the hell happened?”

“Something with the Infinity Stones.”

_“What?”_

There’s three voices starting to come in clearer as Tony manages to stop coughing and take a real breath.

“Nebula, can you get him some water?”

“You said that you told him to wait?”

Tony opens his watering eyes and his workshop swims into focus. Bruce is kneeling on his right, Steve’s on his left. It’s his hand on Tony’s back apparently and now he’s helping Tony sit up with a hand on his back which is...a lot.

“Hey Tony,” Bruce says mildly, “You gave us a big scare.”

“What happened?” he asks and it comes out as a croak.

A glass of water hovers in view, held by a blue hand.

“You stopped breathing,” Nebula says, standing over the three of them. She sounds furious.

“Wha…” Tony starts to say as he reaches up to take the water. Then he sees the band on his wrist and remembers.

“Oh...shit…”

And the panic sets in.

He saw a whole lot of people who aren’t alive anymore.

\---

Nebula stands back and watches the whole scene unfold.

As soon as this man is upright, she might deck him.

But right now he looks like he’s about to panic again. Although this time she can ascertain that it's not about nothing. So she stands back and waits while Rogers and Banner are tending to him.

He seems to have forgotten about that cup of water moments after he took it from her. Only Rogers quick reflexes stopped it from hitting the floor as it fell from Tony’s grasp.

“Tony,” Steve asks “Can you tell us what happened?”

The man grips at his hair with two hands, knotting his fingers at the roots.

“Um...everything was orange and…” He looks up at her, “I think I saw your sister.”

She freezes.

“I mean I’m only going off descriptions,” he says in a rush, “But she had green skin and her hair is sort of purple?”

She nods, unable to look away from him now. He turns and looks at Steve, seemingly unaware of the bomb he just dropped. Rogers is watching him warily as he continues, “I saw Barnes too...and Sam…”

Steve too, seems to freeze like she did, but Tony just looks away, his hands tightening in his hair. “And Pepper...and the kid…”

He bows his head and his breath is coming in sharp gasps.

Only Banner remains unaffected, looking at all of them with sad eyes.

“Okay Tony, let's take you to the infirmary and when you’ve calmed down you can tell us more,” he says with a significant look at them that seems to say, _stay put._

She watches the man lead Tony out of the room.

Now it’s just her and Rogers, still stunned, still pale, and silent as death.

Did Tony die? Is that how he saw Gamora? Or is Gamora alive? It wouldn’t be the first time Thanos or his people lied and manipulated.

But he saw the kid. The kid she watched die on Titan.

“Orange…” Steve murmurs, almost to himself.

She cuts a look at him. It seems to remind him that she’s even there based on the way he looks back at her, all startled eyebrows and an abashed step back.

“He said everything was orange,” the man elaborates, “One of the Infinity Stones was orange.”

She stares at him, mouth slightly agape.

“Are you saying his spirit went _inside_ the soul stone?” she asks.

He shrugs, “I have no idea. But Bucky and Sam died when Thanos…” he trails off but she nods her head in one short, sharp motion. It’s been some time now and it’s still difficult to put a name to what happened.

“Gamora didn’t die then,” she says through her teeth, “He killed her before that.”

He nods again, looking down at the ground.

The silence that follows is a long one.

“I’m going to go check on them,” Steve finally says, more than a little awkwardly, “You can...if you want…”

She glares at him and is endlessly grateful when he shuts up and leaves the workshop. She waits a few beats before following.

\---

Pepper sank to the ground, one hand pressed to her mouth. Her breath coming in shaky gasps. It took a few moments before Frank knelt down beside her, fixing her with a keen eyed look.

“You want to talk about it?” he asks. She shakes her head and he nods.

On her other side a rough textured hand presses on her arm.

“I am Groot,” the little tree says and she’s not sure what it means but the tree settles down on the ground next to her. On the other side Frank does the same.

“Let us know when you’re ready,” Frank says. She looks at him then, ready to raise her voice and tell him not to condescend her.

Except the look he shoots her isn’t pity, it’s recognition. He knows something of this. Of trauma and loss.

“You’re friend Karen,” she says, her voice rough like sandpaper, “Tell me about her?”

There’s that look again, softened by a hint of an upturned lip.

“She’s tough as nails,” he says, a full smile growing as he speaks, “You’d probably like her, its hard not to.”

He continues, filling the silence for a time and Pepper listens. He tells her in the sparest language of how they met, how they continued to cross paths…

It’s only a few minutes that pass. Frank is still not much of a talker. When the words run out she nods and gets to her feet. Both the man and tree get up with her.

“Thank you,” she tells Frank, and smiles down at Groot who takes her hand again.

“Alright, alright,” Frank says, waving her thanks away like it's embarrassing, “Let's get a move on.”

“Let’s,” she agrees.

“I am Groot,” the tree says and it sounds like he’s agreeing too.

At that exact moment a new voice rings out.

“What the fuck, is that a talking tree?”

All three of them turn to see a woman some years younger than Pepper with dark hair, a scarf, and black gloves. She wears thick boots over torn jeans and approaches them all with an air of incredulity.

Pepper is ready to shoot back with a, ' _Who the fuck are you?'_ When Frank chuckles beside her.

“Hey Jessica, it's been awhile.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, a thing happened! More will be explained soon and also, A Jessica!! Honestly one of my greatest joys in writing this is coming up with these odd pairings and their interactions. After Jessica I might start building up another little group, we'll see.
> 
> Also while we did not get to see Tony seeing Sam that wasn't a typo. All will be made clear *obi-wan handwaving*


	12. Repercussions

Jessica Jones did not plan on dealing with an alien invasion that Monday morning.

Who the fuck would plan for that?

She was out on a case when the ships appeared in the sky. The first thing she did was call Trish.

“Get inside,” she said instead of hello.

“Jessica? What’s happening?”

“Trish _get inside and lock your doors.”_

With that, she hung up and ran.

At the office, Malcolm was at the window and turned the moment she opened the door.

“Jessica, do you know what’s going on?” he asked.

“No, but I hope that iron asshole is dealing with this mess,” she replied, joining him at the window.

Eventually the aliens seemed to leave New York behind. On the news there were clips of Iron Man and Spider Man(a stupid superhero name) clinging to the ship as it left orbit.

The pair of them were glued to her laptop as coverage of something in Wakanda unfolded and pundits speculated what Iron Man was up to.

When the screaming started afresh outside many hours later, Jessica ran to the window.

“Jessica?” Malcolm asked behind her. And she turned in time to see him disintegrate.

 _“Malcolm,”_ she yelled like that could stop it from happening.

But she was too late. He was gone.

She called Trish with shaking hands. She should have _gone_ to Trish’s and taken Malcolm with her. That place was a fortress.

“Jessica?” her sister asked as she answered the phone.

“Trish, something’s happening I…” she said in a hurry and then stopped as her left hand, which hung by her side, began to turn to dust.

“Oh _fuck,”_ she murmured and then the phone dropped from her hand and she dropped to the floor.

The last thing she heard was Trish’s tinny voice shouting her name.

_“Jessica? Jessica?!”_

The next thing she knows, she’s in some orange place with nothing but sand everywhere.

She wanders aimlessly through it until she stumbles across Frank Castle, Tony Stark’s girlfriend, and a talking tree.

Frank Castle, she knows from a few investigations where she’s crossed his path.

Pepper Potts, she knows from the news. She’s the face of Stark industries these days and it seems that every couple of months she’s splashed across every major news outlet because of some press release.

She has no idea what is up with the tree.

“Hey Jessica, it's been awhile,” Frank says to her and she folds her arms over her chest in pure irritation. Their interactions have generally been brief and deeply annoying. Castle is a wrecking ball in the city. He’s killed a lead on more than one of her cases.

Potts looks back and forth between her and Frank.

“You know each other?” she asks.

“We run in the same neighborhood,” Jessica says dismissively, “Also we have a mutual pain in the ass. Goes by the name of Murdock.” She shoots Frank another look at that and the man nods with a hint of a smirk.

That asshole came back from the dead recently and didn’t even have the decency to send a text. If he’s here too, Jessica fully intends to kick his ass.

But with that explanation out of the way, she looks back at the redhead who is currently holding the tree’s hand.

“Now seriously, what’s up with the tree?”

“I am Groot,” the tree says.

“Good for you,” she replies flatly before looking back at the redhead and Frank.

The woman stares at Jessica, her expression flustered and somewhat bewildered.

“I think he’s just a kid…” she says slowly, eying the tree, “An alien one.”

Than the tree sighs and actually rolls his eyes which is honestly a lot to take.

“I am _Groot,”_ the tree says sound extremely put upon. Jessica’s eyebrows lift high on her forehead.

“And that’s all he says,” the redhead adds.

Jessica sighs and takes a step back, “I hate that, _that_ isn’t even the weirdest thing I’ve seen today,” she glances over at Frank, “You. Anything to add?”

Frank shrugs looking faintly amused.

“You heading anywhere in particular?” she asks and Frank shrugs again.

Jessica heaves another sigh with a mutter of, “God I could use a drink.”

She could use twenty drinks as a matter of fact. Being blind drunk would be really good right now.

Instead Pepper Potts says, “You’re welcome too…” and trails off, one hand out in a messy gesture. It's an invitation to nowhere, really.

They don’t know where they’re going and neither does she.

“Yeah whatever, sure,” she says before Pepper Potts can finish that thought.

She doesn’t _want_ to be around other people.

But Malcolm is probably here too somewhere and she wants to find him.

This is not the hell her foster mother tried to sell her on but it’s some kind of afterlife and she hopes that Trish isn’t here too.

So she starts walking.

“I am Groot,” the tree says with a nod of his head and follows after her.

“That’s going to get really annoying,” Jessica says to no one in particular and glances back to see Frank and Pepper Potts following behind.

What a merry fucking band they’re going to be.

\---

Bruce quietly hauls Tony to the elevator and then into their infirmary.

Tony just tries and mostly fails to breath. His chest aches fiercely with every inhale and also he’s _definitely_ having a panic attack.

On the way to the elevator they pass Natasha and Harley who stop at the sight of them.

“Is he okay?” Harley asks and Bruce just nods, “He’ll be fine. I’ll update you later.”

As they reach the infirmary, Bruce helps Tony sit on a gurney and then pulls up a blood pressure cuff and heart monitor. He doesn’t say a word as he hooks Tony up to all the machines and Tony just watches.

Soon enough the room is filled with steady beeps and Bruce stops, staring at the monitors for what seems like a long time.

Its calming in a way. The stillness and repetitive sounds from the machines.

It’s enough to take the edge off the raw panic, ringing in Tony’s ears

It does nothing to help him deal with what he saw, or _who_ he saw. He can’t even fully comprehend what it means that he saw them. Pepper _died._ The kid died.

Did Tony die? Is that how he saw them?

Or are they alive somewhere? In some form?

Pepper looked so shocked to see him and so did Peter.

And he was too surprised and too _stupid_ to say anything.

He saw a whole bunch of people.

He saw Pepper first with a small tree and a big man. Then the kid with Barnes, Nebula’s sister, and Steven Strange.

Then the flashes came faster. Wanda and Sam. Of Loki, Mantis, Drax, and Peter.

He saw people he didn’t know as the flashes became a blur.

And then he saw nothing at all and woke up in his workroom with Steve and Bruce crowded around him and Nebula standing warily a few feet away.

He knows what he saw but he doesn’t know what it _means._

The kid looked ready to cry at the sight of him. _“Mr. Stark, I’m really sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”_

Tony was too much of an idiot to tell the kid to stuff his apologies. That he didn’t need to apologize because none of it was his fault.

And Pepper…

She was reaching for him right as he flashed away and _god_ he should have grabbed her and held on for all he was worth. It might not have done anything at all but he should have tried. He should have done _something._

As he thinks all of this, Bruce is still staring at the displays, his mouth tight.

“Tony you should have told me before you tried anything,” he says softly.

“Probably,” Tony agrees absently.

“You could have _died,”_ Bruce says, finally turning to look at him and only now does Tony realize that this is the conversation they’re having.

“You were literally dead for at least a few minutes,” he continues, “Steve had to perform CPR and _what were you even thinking?”_

Tony stares at his friend, he’s too tired and too frayed to even begin to explain. But still he tries, “I wasn’t...thinking…”

Bruce scoffs a little and turns back to the monitors.

“We can’t afford to lose anyone else Tony. Not now…” he says going quiet again. And Tony doesn’t know what to say to that so he doesn’t say anything at all.

Finally, Bruce looks back at him and sighs, “You really should lie down,” he says and gestures at the gurney Tony is sitting on.

“Sure, yeah,” Tony nods and lies down. He won’t say that he couldn’t sleep even if he tried. That his hands haven’t stopped shaking and his chest aches fiercely. He looks over and sees Bruce watching him with furrowed brows and a lopsided mouth.

“Just let me know before you do something like that again okay?”

Tony nods because it feels hard to speak and with that Bruce nods again and leaves the infirmary.

\---

Steve fidgets just outside the door to the infirmary. Nebula followed him up here but she stands apart from him and looks deliberately unconcerned by their surroundings.

Is she trying to reckon with the fact that Tony saw her sister? Because Steve is still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he saw Bucky and Sam.

He still wakes up in a cold sweat most nights with the image of Bucky disintegrating in his mind’s eye.

In the moments when he is the most honest with himself, he is glad he wasn’t with Sam in his final moments because he didn’t have to see it happen. Steve has seen a lot of people die. Many of them were friends. But he’s never seen death like that. Something about watching them fall to pieces keeps him up at night.

And even if he didn’t see it happen to Sam, he’s cursed with a vivid imagination. In his sleep his mind conjures images of Sam dying right alongside Bucky. Sometimes he sees Wanda or Vision. Sometimes he dreams that the people he _knows_ are still living, die the same way, with plaintive looks and fearful tones.

When Bruce steps out of the infirmary looking exhausted he glances at the pair of them.

“We should let him rest awhile,” he says.

“Did he say anything?” Nebula asks from her spot a few feet from the door.

“Not really,” he replies.

“Is he okay?” Steve asks.

“He’s stable,” Bruce replies.

None of them move from their spots.

“I’ll get us some chairs,” Bruce sighs and ambles off down the hallway.

\---

Inside the infirmary, Tony Stark lies back on the gurney. He can hear the murmurs outside but he’s too bone tired to go out there and tell them so.

His left hand itches and he lifts it up to scratch and sees the knuckle of his ring finger looks dark, almost blackened. He scratches at it a little and a small layer of skin crumbles like ash. The pieces of it floating down to the ground in a way that’s all too familiar.

Tony stares at the flecks of dust before brushing them under the bed with his foot.

He’s too dizzy and tired to think right now. He lies down and closes his eyes with a sense of muted panic and dreams of orange sand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm just going to say I'm a very squeamish person so I doubt I could write anything too fucked up but this thing with Tony is going to most likely lead to some...uuuhhh ~~light body horror~~ I'll put warnings at the top of any chapters that get nutty and spoiler summaries down here for anybody who doesn't want to read that.
> 
> And boy howdy we all saw the trailer for Avengers Endgame. RIP Cap's beard and let me just say NOT ENOUGH NEBULA (But I always knew this Tony Nebula dynamic I dreamed up would probably remain strictly fanon though so I can't say I'm surprised) Also that Captain Marvel trailer was rad XD


	13. Debrief

When Sam Wilson woke up in an orange colored desert he tried not to think too hard about Iraq and the way those sand dunes looked an awful lot like what he looked at now.

The main thing that kept him grounded was the quiet. Iraq had not been a quiet place ever. Even in the middle of the desert there was the chatter and bustle of fellow soldiers. There was gunfire and helicopters and bombs.

Iraq was not quiet.

But this place is silent as death.

It chills him a little to hear almost nothing as he gets up and starts walking to try and get his bearings.

If Riley could see him now…

He knows his friend would have laughed himself stupid over the shit Sam let himself get wrapped up in. 

He used to say that Sam was a lot braver than he was smart.

These days, Sam is inclined to agree.

Even though he knows and understands every choice he made, it still throws him to consider that he stood in a line with a shitload of soldiers, superheroes, and aliens to fight some monsters. At one point he saw Barnes and a talking raccoon team up to shoot down some of the enemy combatants.

Technically, Sam supposes they were just more aliens but the whole thing was so absurd it was a lot easier to let it happen and worry about the intricacies of it later. He didn’t understand all the mumbo jumbo they were trying to do with Vision. Although he agrees with Steve’s choice to try and protect every life they can.

Even if they failed.

And they did fail.

He felt himself come apart and drop to the ground.

In that moment, he knew they had failed.

And then he woke up here and started walking.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed or how far he’s walked. The light in the sky never shifts, the landscape does not change.

When he finally spots something new, he quickens his pace.

There’s a figure sitting in the sand, knees drawn to chest, head down.

The first thing he can make out is the shock of red hair and he can’t help the relief at the sight of someone familiar. Even if it’s mixed with grief for the fact that she died too.

As he gets closer still he can see that Wanda Maximoff is alone and crying in raw, jagged gasps.

“Hey Wanda,” he says quietly when he’s close enough to be heard. She jolts upright at the sound of her name and looks up at him.

“Sam?”

“Hey girl,” he says and she nods, her mouth still quivering. Neither of them speak for a moment as Sam takes another look at their unchanging surroundings.

“Thanos got Vision didn’t he?” he asks and she nods again, her whole face crumbling back into grief. He kneels down beside her and puts a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he says and she just cries and cries. 

Sam sits next to her without a word. 

This is something he knows how to do. He’s almost good at it in fact.

Riley always used to say he was a great listener. That was what made him volunteer at the VA in the first place.

So he sits with her until she’s all cried out and resting her head on his shoulder. He sits until she picks herself up off the ground and tells him that she’s ready to go.

It’s at that moment that a blinding light flashes and a panicked image of Tony Stark appears, translucent like a mirage for barely a second before the light flashes again and he’s gone.

“The fuck was that?” Sam asks and the pair of them share a look.

_ Who knows? _ She seems to say with just her eyes.

And with that they start walking.

\---

Rocket is  _ bored. _

Who knew Terrans were this boring.

He’s wandering this giant mansion for the third time today looking for something to do. 

He bumped into that kid who still goggles at him because creatures like him aren’t that talkative on Earth  _ apparently. _

He saw the archer in the gym emptying his quiver on a target, pulling out the arrows and doing it all again.

He saw the redhead, Natasha leaning against the counter drinking coffee.

(Thor made some coffee for him once. He hated the taste but loved the energy boost. Steve Rogers was in the room for that and told them both that Rocket shouldn’t have anymore coffee)

He’s beginning to wonder where Nebula ran off to when he goes up a few floors and finds a gaggle of them sitting on messily placed chairs right there in the hallway. They look like chairs from another room and not this pristine hallway. (This place is so clean it makes him itch sometimes)

The scientist Bruce is sitting there with Steve, while Nebula leans against the wall a little farther down the hall, and all three of them look up at the sight of him.

“Did I interrupt a party or something?” Rocket asks.

“No,” Nebula replies flatly.

Rogers looks back at her and then at Rocket.

“We’re going to need to tell everybody about this,” he says, “Once we can talk to Tony and get a clear picture we should get everybody together and talk about this.”

Nebula only shrugs and then looks at Rocket, “Stark did something and saw Gamora and a bunch of other people who died.”

Rocket stares at her and Nebula stares back with hardened dark eyes.

“Is she okay? Did he see Groot? Or Peter?” He wants to keep going but stops when she shrugs her shoulders.

Rogers says in a tone that Rocket finds annoyingly close to condescension, “He didn’t say very much, we’re just giving him some time to rest and then we were going to ask him more.”

“Why the hell do we need to wait for that?” Rocket asks

“Because he was dead for a few minutes during this whole ordeal,” Banner sighs, rubbing a hand over his forehead.

Rocket spares a glance for the man who he is told can become a giant green rage monster. Right now he just seems small and tired.

“Shit...how long’s it been?” Rocket asks.

It’s at that moment, the door slides open and Stark is standing in the doorway. 

\---

When Tony wakes up his chest still aches and his head is spinning.

Then he remembers Pepper and the kid and holds up his left hand to see the skin is still dark like a bruise and if he scratches at it, it peels away like bits of ash.

And he knows what this looks like.

Maybe living beings shouldn’t be interacting with Infinity Stones while the work of Thanos is still in effect.

Maybe no  _ other  _ living beings should anyway.

Tony stares at his hand with a detached sense of foreboding.

The spot on his knuckle isn’t spreading, but it isn’t going away either.

He turns his hand over to look at his palm. The dust hasn’t spread clean through his hand yet which is good. And who uses their left hand anyway?

Tony can work through this.

He can handle this.

It also occurs to him that he’s covered in cold sweat and breathing still hurts.

“Hey Friday, have you done an X-Ray yet?” he asks the ceiling.

“Yes Tony, you have severe bruising to your ribs but nothing appears to be broken.”

“Thanks,” he says softly, leaning back against the pillow, “Oh and scan this would you?” he asks and holds up his left hand. 

“Right away sir,” she says and a blue line of light filters across the room.

“Nobody aside from me is allowed to access anything to do with this, got that?” he asks.

“Are you sure sir? That looks serious,” Friday says and if she had a face in that moment, it would be frowning.

“Positive,” he says and lets his hand fall back to the gurney.

He might be dying. He’s probably dying.

It’s just happening very slowly.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

He might freak out about this later but right now a shocking calm has settled on him as he stares up at the infirmary ceiling. It’s white and boring and he idly wonders if he can reprogram the nanites to replicate human skin and tissue. Just until he can figure out how to reverse this.

He sits up and then gets off the bed with the intent to go downstairs and run some more tests. Of course his body objects to that pretty loudly. He wobbles and has to rest a hand on the gurney mattress to try and get his bearings.

Good.  _ Awesome. _

The last thing he wants is to deal with people right now.

He gets to the door, opens it, and four sets of eyes lock on him.

Great.

Bruce is the first to get to his feet.

“You shouldn’t be up,” he says.

“Yet here I am,” Tony says.

Steve gets to his feet slowly, almost hesitantly.

“Are you…”

“I’m fine Cap,” Tony replies, firm and a little annoyed. His left hand is jammed in his pocket and it’s staying there. 

He takes a step forward and suddenly Nebula is right in his face, looking furious.

“If you do that again, I’ll kill you,” she says.

And Tony heroically refrains from mentioning that if he did that again he would probably already be dead. What he says is, “Sure, got it.”

“Ask him about Groot,” he can hear the raccoon whispering to Bruce which gets the creature a very confused look and Nebula actually turns her head to look back at him. 

He can’t see what passes between them in that look but she faces Tony again, “Did you see a...small tree creature…”

Rocket elbows his way past Steve and Bruce to add in a rush, “He’s about this tall,” he says with a hand held up above his head, “He says ‘I am Groot,’ a lot and he probably would have been on his tablet because the little shit never stopped playing on it.”

Bruce looks puzzled and, weirdly, Steve doesn’t. 

Tony recollects the small tree that was holding Pepper’s hand. It stared at him with wide eyes and said nothing.

“Does it...does he have a face?” Tony asks and Rocket nods.

“He was with...Pepper,” Tony says which gets raised brows from Bruce. Rocket just waves that away, “How did he look? Did he look okay?” 

“Yeah,”Tony says.

“Are you sure?” the raccoon asks, “You’re not just saying that to shut me up are you?”

“I only saw them for a few seconds,” Tony tells him with a sigh.

“What about Gamora?” Nebula asks and her expression is stone.

“Yeah, what about her?” Rocket chimes in. He seems immune to the glare Nebula aims at him.

“She was with the kid,” Tony says, looking down at his shoes for a moment before meeting her gaze, “She seemed okay.”

His glance moves to Steve who is so obviously not saying anything.

“Barnes was with them,” he says quietly, “He looked okay too.”

Steve nods his head, looking down at the ground.

“I saw Sam with Wanda. They were somewhere else but they looked fine.”

Steve does not meet his eyes as he murmurs a very soft, “Thank you.”

Tony just nods because he does not know what to say to that. 

Suddenly none of them seem to know what to say.

Bruce sighs from his spot by the two chairs that were not out in this hall before, “Why don’t you sit down and tell us what you can, and then you  _ really  _ should rest.”

Tony does like he’s asked and sits in one of the two chairs, “You don’t think we should get the others and tell everybody?” he asks.

“Do you  _ want  _ to tell this to a roomful of people?” Bruce asks, his tone desert dry.

“No,” Tony replies, feeling a little bit like a scolded five year old.

“I’ll make sure everyone here’s about this,” Bruce says.

“Send out a group text,” Tony suggests in a poor attempt at a joke. Especially since he’s not sure the alien or the raccoon know about texting. Bruce just sighs again and sits down in the chair across from him. Steve, Nebula, and Rocket all sort of hover at the edges and look like they’re trying not to.

Tony leans back in his chair, attempting to be casual, all while he is more or less sitting on his left hand to keep it from view. It’s always been easy to talk to Bruce. Now he simply pretends this is another one of their talks.

“There was a flash,” he says quietly, sounding pretty steady which is a surprise, “I saw Pepper, this big guy, and you’re tree friend,” he glances over at Rocket, who shifts a little. 

“Everything was orange. The sky was orange and so was the sand. Just a big featureless desert. It looked like that no matter where I was.”

He can tell the others have questions but he’d rather say this only once so he plows onward, “I can tell they saw me and I think they could hear me. Pepper even tried to reach out to me but it was barely thirty seconds and then there was another flash. That time I saw the kid, Barnes, Gamora, and Stephen Strange.”

He looks at the others again seeing some eyebrows raise at the eclectic group, then he looks back at Bruce.

“That time was shorter, maybe 15 seconds before the next flash.”

He won’t mention the kid nearly crying and apologizing to Tony. That’s not something he feels like talking about. Not now or ever.

“There was another flash and I saw Wanda and Sam and after that it got too fast. It just became a blur,” he glances over at Steve, “I think I saw Loki... We should probably tell Thor.”

Steve nods and then Tony looks back at the scientist, “I have no idea how many flashes there were but I think I moved with every flash. Every time I saw a group of people, the last group wasn’t even a dot on the horizon.”

“Did you get anything you might be able to use from all this?” Bruce asks with a gentle frown and Tony shrugs, “Well you’re formula was on the right track, we just need to be more targeted in how we harness that.”

Bruce nods and so does Tony.

Then he gets to his feet, his left hand goes back in his pocket, and his right hand waves jauntily.

“Well this was fun and I appreciate all the concern and CPR, but I need to check some readings in the workshop.”

“You really should be resting,” Bruce says like a stubborn parent.

“I will, I will, I just need to check on something,” he says flapping his free hand in a lazy farewell.

What he won’t say is that he doesn’t have time for a nap. If he’s right and this thing spreads, than he has no time for such things.

He has no time at all.

\---

Steve watches Tony leave with an unshakeable feeling of foreboding. He’s not sure what it is that has him so uneasy but the feeling is unmistakable.

Sam always used to tell him to trust his instincts because ‘they were solid most of the time’.

Before that Bucky told him to trust his gut.

Something is wrong and he’s going to have to find out what.

But for the time being, he bites the inside of his cheek and turns back to the others.

“What do you think it all means?” he asks softly.

“The soul stone is orange,” Bruce says in equally hushed tones.

“What difference does it make?” Nebula demands, “They’re still dead.”

And with that she steps away from the wall she’d been leaning on and storms away.

Beside him, Rocket frowns at her back before looking back at Steve and Bruce.

“She’s not wrong,” he says and then heads out the same way.

Then it’s just Steve and Bruce again.

“We should tell the others,” Steve says.

Bruce has two fingers pinched at the bridge of his nose as he replies, “Sure. But maybe not a group meeting because people are going to  _ react  _ to this and I don’t want it to all be happening at once.”

Steve sighs and shakes his head before getting to his feet, “I’ll talk to Nat.”

The other man nods, dropping his hand to his lap, “Good idea, I’ll go talk to Thor.”

It's not much of a plan. But it's a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's maybe an abrupt end to this chapter but oh well it's six pages here ya go *confetti*
> 
> Can I just say, 'thanks for all the concern and CPR' is a really funny line to only me and I smiled when I wrote it. Also for all those asking whats happening to Tony....well it wouldn't be fun if I told you now would it? Although I don't think I'm being particularly subtle about it but hey if it seems uncertain than you have a fun mystery to solve!! Also I would tag this fic with character death if I was gonna go there so like...it will be okay eventually I swear....I just really love angst.
> 
> I will say I am a bad, bad person because I made a friend sad describing this latest plot twist and I giggled. Literally when I thought of it at work I was like OH SHIT. I get way too excited when I actually think of plot stuff.
> 
> Also I just finished watching season 2 of Handmaids tale because it took me this long to work up the nerve to watch it and hooo boy that was a Trip. A very well filmed trip that is potentially torture porn but boy howdy do they all deserve some Emmys for all that face acting. Also Max Minghella is very pretty but Nick is an idiot with only two brain cells.


End file.
